The Story of Spike
by Killerbluetack
Summary: Spike leaves Ponyville to go to the Dragon Kingdom for the Crunch, the baby dragons' coming of age. Spike will discover that all dragons walk a hard road, especially those without parents. Part one of The Story of Spike. First multi-chapter please review.
1. Spike's Departure

Pinkie Pie had really outdone herself this time, the party was amazing, there wasn't an inch of Sugarcube Corner that wasn't covered in something bright and colourful. Despite the festivities, it was a sad occasion, it was Spike's farewell party, while everyone tried to enjoy themselves, it left an undercurrent of loss that put a damper on the whole occasion.

"Hi! Welcome to Spike's farewell party, grab a slice of cake! It's delicious!" Pinkie Pie practically shouted at anyone entering Sugar Cube Corner.

"So, Twilight" Rainbow Dash began, "Now that Spike's leaving, what does that mean for your studies?"

"Oh it shouldn't be too much trouble, the Princess has taught me a spell that should allow me to send my letters to her without Spike, and I've always got Owlowiscious to help around if I need it." Twilight's strained grin was speckled with misery.

"Has the Princess been well Twilight? The last you told us was that her letters were arriving later than usual." Rarity asked.

"I still don't know what's wrong, I've asked her, but she doesn't answer, or dodges the question, or tells me I shouldn't worry" Twilight groaned as her gaze fixed on the ground, renewed worry about her mentor knotting in her stomach, "I wish she would tell me." her voice was faint.

"Ah'm shore t's nothin' Twi', if it were anythin' big the Princess'd tell yah." Applejack reassured her.

Twilight sighed. "I know Applejack, but still..."

"Getting off this depressing subject I got a chance to try out for the Wonderbolts next year!" Rainbow Dash boasted. A chorus of awed noises greeted her statement. Rainbow Dash closed her eyes as her ego expanded, "I know, I know, I was just as surprised as you when I got the letter but the Wonderbolts were just as impressed by me at the Best Young Flyer's Competition so I got an invite to try out in Cloudsdale next year."

Pinkie Pie had greeted all the guests and was making her way over to Spike. "You know Spike.." she said, her hair deflating slightly as she did so, "there's no-one else in Ponyville who can play the piano, especially a showtune."

"It's ok Pinkie Pie, I'll be back next year and I bet I'll be even better at the piano."

"Promise?" he wished, looking up at him hopefully.

"You bet! Cross my heart and hope to...uhhh...you know how it goes."

Pinkie Pie perked up, grinning the Pinkie Pie way she said "I hope the dragons treat you well Spike, you'll be with them for a year...why are you going again?"

"Every dragon's gotta go, it's the dragon Crunch, a big gathering of all the baby kingdom dragons in one place!"

"How are you going to get there anyways?"

"We're catching a train from Clydesdale"

"Will the sleepy dragon from the mountain be there?"

"Uhhh, no Pinkie Pie, he's a wild dragon."

"What's the difference?"

"Wild dragons are...well...wild, kingdom dragons are...uhhh...from the Dragon Kingdom."

Pinkie Pie's eyebrow lowered dangerously, Spike readied himself for the barrage of questions.

"Okey Dokey Lokey!" she grinned in her distinct way, the curious look gone. Spike breathed a sigh of relief, whenever Pinkie Pie decided it was question time you couldn't even answer half of them. As soon as you had finished hearing the first question, Pinkie was already halfway through the next.

Spike picked up another fistful of gems and stuffed them into his mouth. The delicious, smooth texture and the satisfying crunch whenever he bit down on one flooded his senses, and the taste..._the taste__. _And all gems were different, it was beyond "rubies taste different to sapphires". No. Each gem was different from another, each one unique_._ He could never describe how a gem was to somepony who hadn't eaten one, it was indescribable, and likening it to hay chips or a good grass and tomato sandwich just never did it justice. Just as he was about to fully immerse himself in the gem, Twilight snapped him out of his reverie.

"What is it?" Spike asked impatiently, a small scowl at his interruption.

"It might be time to start saying goodbye." Twilight said solemnly.

"Alright" Spike sighed. He tried to clear his misting eyes as he approached the corner where they were standing. Without speaking a word he wrapped arms tightly around Rainbow Dash's neck.

"Hey!" Rainbow Dash was surprised at the sudden affection.

"I'm going to miss you Dash" Spike choked out.

Rainbow Dash's expression softened "I'm going to miss you too Spike" and bent down into his embrace.

Spike prised himself off Dash and walked over to Pinkie Pie, who was openly crying. "SPIKEY! SPIIIIKEEEEEY!" she wailed, everypony inside covered their ears. She draped herself over Spike, there was a dull thud as he dropped to the floor under her weight..

"I'll miss you too Pinkie Pie" Spike wheezed. Rainbow Dash and Applejack were polite enough to help Pinkie Pie off Spike, he took a few appreciative breaths.

"G'bye Kiddo" Applejack smiled and put a hoof around his shoulders.

"Bye Spike" Fluttershy's voice was even quieter than usual, looking down at the ground as she hugged him.

Spike stuttered and stammered his way through saying goodbye to Rarity. "So..uh...um...yea"

"Don't worry Spike, we'll see you soon, its not like you're going away forever."

"Yeah" he exhaled happily as all the blood in his body seemed to accumulate in his cheeks. Twilight rolled her eyes, she could practically feel the iddy-biddy love hearts floating around him.

"Come on Spike"

He walked with Twilight out of Sugarcube Corner and towards the library.

"Make sure you've packed all your things Spike, it'll be too late in the morning."

"Yeah yeah" Spike waved her off. As he set about ensuring that everything was packed for the trip.

Twilight Sparkle flopped down in her bed, would Spike come back from the Crunch? Would he even want to? She desperately hoped to see her number one assistant again. Despite all his assurances that he would be back next year her stomach iced over in worry. It took a long time, but eventually she passed into a deep sleep.

Spike picked up the last few things he had yet to pack, he hadn't packed any clothes, he wouldn't need them, he held up the letter from Celestia explaining that he shouldn't bring anything that would make him stand out from the other baby dragons. Overall his suitcase was looking pretty bare, there were a few blank scrolls for any letter he'd want to send, as well as a small inkwell and a heavy, dark brown quill. A few rubies were in a brown bag, stuffed into the corner of the suitcase so they wouldn't shake about and scratch the parchment or damage the quill, he felt deeply homesick already, they were going to be the last Ponyville gems he would eat for a year or more. Spike hoped that the Dragon Kingdom's gems were just as nice as the ones in Canterlot or Ponyville.

He decided to do one last bit of cleaning up before he went to bed. He picked up some of the scattered books "Supernaturals", he peeked inside and giggled at the scrawl on the margin "Twilight Floppel", longing wormed its way through him, if only he didn't have to go, why did he even have to go? Why had Celestia been so insistent that he go to the Crunch, yeah every dragon was meant to go, but was he really a dragon? He had been raised by ponies, grown up around ponies and spent all his time as an assistant to a pony. Tears threatened to break through. Why did he have to go? Why did he have to leave? Why now?

"Hoo" came his response from the desk sitting near the window of the library. He glanced over at Owlowiscious.

"I'm going to miss you too Owlowiscious, we still cool about the mouse thing?"

Owlowiscious tilted his head to the right, until he saw Spike as a dragon seemingly glued to the walls. "Hoo".

"Phew, thanks"

"Hoo" Owlowiscious lifted up one of his legs, balancing on his perch.

Spike grabbed the only book in the library to contain any amount of information regarding dragons. He flipped past the first few pages of the short reference book. It was mostly about the biology of dragons, gained from a few lucky scientists who found some freshly dead wild dragons and got to work. He stopped at the page about a dragon's spines.

"_All dragons are born with a ridge of spines sprouting from the top of their head and follow their spines down to the end of their tails, on all wild dragons these spines are large and pronounced, however, on all sighted dragons from the Dragon Kingdom the spines are small and flat."_

He flipped over to another page.

"_There have been no sightings of live juvenile Kingdom Dragons. All live sightings have been of either newborns, accompanied by their mothers, or of dragons approaching adulthood. It has been theorised that this is simply because newborns accompany their mothers everywhere, including outside the Dragon Kingdom, while juvenile dragons have disconnected from their parents but have yet to reach the age where they are able to leave the Dragon Kingdom. An additional theory states that this period of time is a period of education for the younger dragons, similar to the schooling system currently in Equestria." _

Spike hoped that at least some of this information would be useful for his trip. He glanced over to the index and almost immediately found a few sections that could actually tell him something he might use on the trip.

"_**Dragon Culture**_

"_Due to the high level of xenophobia (fear of outsiders and outside influences) prevalent in the Dragon Kingdom, relatively little is known about draconic cultures and practices. However, from interviews with Princess Celestia and various other diplomatic parties, several conclusions can be made about basic draconian culture_

_1. Dragons emphasise an individual taking responsibility for their own actions, they view lies, even small lies, with great hatred, in many cases lying about a crime is considered a greater offence than the crime itself._

_2. Dragons are expected to put greater weight on the good of the many rather than the good of the individual. However, dragons to recognise exceptional individuals or exceptional acts._

"_**Dragon Names**_

"_Individuals in the Dragon Kingdom are described as 'x, vor y', eg. Yon vor Hio"_

Spike stuffed the book into his suitcase, hoping rather than believing it would come in handy later. He snuffed out the candle and closed his suitcase. That was it, he was all ready for tomorrow.

Spike sat down on his bed, knowing that this would be the last time he would sleep in it for at least a year. He lay down and tugged his blue blankie up over his head, he knew it was pretty trivial, but he would miss the soft padding in his bed and the warm, conveniently fireproof blanket.

The sun blasted in through the window of the library, flooding the room in harsh light. Spike squinted, his eyes stinging from the sudden shift to light. "Come on Spike, we have to start now if you want to catch the train!" Twilight shouted, opening the curtains just a little bit wider.

Spike groaned in response, dragging himself out of bed. He lazily gripped the handle of his suitcase and said goodbye to Owlowiscious.

They took the road leading south out of town, heading towards the train station in silence. There was nothing to be said. They would catch the train to Clydesdale, then Spike would take another train west to the edge of Equestria and make his way into dragon lands for the Crunch.

They bought their tickets together and went to platform 2, where their train would arrive. Spike and Twilight winced at the screeching down the brakes made, but the train pullers were glad for a chance to switch and get some rest. The train looked like it had been kicked around by time and then stepped on for good measure. They boarded the metal capsule that claimed to be a train and sat down on the lounges, the faint groans and clicks of the gears and harnesses painfully audible over their silence. "Soooo." Twilight attempted to start a conversation. "What are you going to do at the Crunch Spike?"

"Twilight" Spike's eyebrows raised slightly, "You know as much as I do about the Crunch, all I know is that it's a big dragon thing that every Kingdom Dragon does."

"All right, was just trying to make some conversation."

"Thanks" the edge of Spike's mouth curled slightly, showing one of his tiny fangs. Twilight smiled a little in response.

They lurched around slightly as the train started moving. Twilight looked out the window and daydreamed about what happened at the Crunch.

"So Twilight" Twilight's head snapped about to face him. "Are you gonna be okay when I'm gone?"

"Oh. Yeah!" a quavering smile on her face "I've got Owlowiscious so I should be alright."

"Oh" Spike's eyes met the floor.

"Spike, it'll be tough without you, but you'll be back next year, and no matter what happens you're still my number one assistant."

"Thanks Twilight".

"Clydesdale station. We hope you enjoyed your trip." blared the voice of a pony who had obviously lost all passion for their work.

The sun was blazing in the midday sky as a grey, sleepy town milled about and did nothing special. Spike hated this place, this was the place where fun went to die. "How long?" he groaned at Twilight.

"The next train heading out west arrives in four hours."

"Four...Four...Hours!" Spike was flabbergasted, there was barely enough interesting things to do in Clydesdale to fill up ten minutes, and even that was pushing it.

"C'mon Spike I'm sure we'll find something to do in the meantime."

Spike rolled his eyes "but grass watching is pointless after the first hour, all the good parts are over by then."

Twilight sighed in response. They strode off of the platform, their tickets in Spike's hands as they came to the station guard, he looked as enthusiastic as they did about being in Clydesdale, he didn't even bother to check their tickets, he just waved them through the gate.

Clydesdale was very ordinary, almost exceptionally so, while even the smallest towns at least have something like a bridge named after some great hero or a statue of something, anything, in their town square, Clydesdale had nothing. There was no personality, everything it had somewhere else had better, it was essentially a bunch of houses stuck together and arranged to look like a real town.

They trudged through the centre of the town, everypony in the town was milling around, tiny bells sounded as they entered the kind of shops that needed them.

"There's some kind of garden-park around here Spike." Twilight broke the silence.

"So?"

"Well I thought you might not want to spend four hours wandering Clydesdale."

"Pfffff...All right" Spike conceded and they took the next turn that would take them directly to the garden-park.

The sounds of birdsong told them that they were on the right track, the road gradually fading from bitumen to dirt, until there was no road at all, only a trampled line running through the grass.

"Who's that?" Spike pointed at a pegasus in the distance.

"Fluttershy?" Twilight ran over to the stranger. "Fluttershy?"

"Yes?" came the soft voice of her animal-loving friend.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, I thought I should see Spike off properly."

"It's good to see you" Both Twilight and Spike visibly brightened.

"Hey Spike!" came a cry like a particularly large mouse squeak.

"Hey Pinkie Pie" Spike waved dismissively. "Wait...Pinkie Pie!" Spike yelled. "What are you doing here?"

"Well I thought the going away party was so sad, and that made me sad, and I was sad because you had a sad goodbye, so I came here and now we can have a happy goodbye! I think Applejack is around as well."

They all headed back into the city square to look for Applejack. The Clydesdale ponies regarded Pinkie Pie as if she were a dead bird, with morbid fascination, but at the same time hoping someone would pick it up and put it in the bin.

There was an blonde-maned pony wandering up and down the street, quite obviously looking for someone. "Applejack!" Pinkie Pie called out. "I found them! I found them!"

"Well Ah'm sure glad Ah found ya'll. Ah've behn wanderin' a while now lookin' fer the both o' ya"

"Are you here to see Spike off too Applejack?"

"Ah wouldn' leave loverboy without a propah goodbye." Spike blushed from embarrassment, would Applejack ever let him live that down?

"Is this all you have? Where's the selection? Where's the colour? Where's the **style**?" came a voice from the nearby premium clothing shop.

"Ma'am if you do not calm down I will have to escort you from the premises."

"Calm down. Calm down! That's exactly why all these clothes are so **bland**! There's no emotion! There's just **nothing**!"

"Ma'am-"

"And another thing- Hey! What are you?- Get your hooves!-" Rarity was pushed out of the door by a man with a deep scowl that was doing it's best to revert back to a polite smile, it was not succeeding.

"Ugh! Try to give some constructive criticism-" Rarity shook down her ruffled coat.

"Rarity!" Twilight called her over. Spike was growing gradually redder as she approached.

"Hello Twilight, I was looking for you and Spike when I saw this..." Rarity motioned to the clothing shop and made a face as if she had swallowed something foul.

"It's good to see you too Rarity." Twilight chuckled. Spike seemed unable to speak, only making small, happy sounds every few seconds or so.

It was quite possibly the best day in Spike's life. Clydesdale wasn't exactly a party, but they did their best, and attracted a few disgusted glares and fascinated stares, and he was at the centre of it. Rarity didn't seem to appreciate Clydesdale fashion. Pinkie Pie attempted to get Clydesdale residents to party, much to their dismay, and although everypony noticed that Dash was missing, nopony said anything.

"Uh guys, Ah don't mean tah be a party pooper but Spike's train leaves in fahve minutes." Everyone's eyes went wide.

They raced off towards the train station, Spike desperately clinging to Twilight's back.

"The train on platform 2 is now departing." Twilight bucked violently, sending Spike and his luggage hurtling into the closing door, crashing into the solid wall on the other side, Spike found his feet, only to be knocked to the ground again by the lurching of the train starting. He ran over to the window, furiously waving goodbye. The train started speeding up and his friends became smaller and smaller.

A rainbow blur hurtled down the tracks towards the train, if someone got close to it they might be able to hear faint mutterings. "horseapples horseapples horseapples".

Spike sat down, this time he didn't hold back, tears openly flowed down his face, his eyes reddening and mucus dribbling out of his nose.

Rainbow Dash slowed down when she was level with the train, scanning the train through the windows, desperately searching for Spike. She found him, his face buried in his hands, small droplets squeezing out between his fingers.

Spike heard a knock, but he didn't care, he was leaving his friends, would he ever come back? Would they remember him?

The knocks became more fervent, Spike glanced up at the window too see Rainbow Dash's ridiculous face, her nostrils flared and her eyes were at odd angles, her tongue lolled out of her mouth. Spike burst out laughing. Rainbow Dash shook her new face from side to side, causing Spike to double over. Rainbow Dash slowed down as the train gained speed. She watched as it shrunk into the distance, taking Spike along with it. "Goodbye Spike" she whispered.


	2. Arrival

The Crunch

Chapter 2: Arrival

The train sped along, occasionally stopping to let passengers off until Spike was the only living thing left. His guts writhed in both anticipation and nervousness.

"Last stop, Border Town!" Spike grabbed his suitcase and headed for the door, hoping that he could get directions to the Dragon Kingdom. He didn't have to.

A large, grey dragon was perched on a mountain overlooking the train station, the minute he spotted Spike he leapt off, swooping low over the town, causing the ponies to scatter before him. Something primal and predatory in the back of his brain begged him to set the town aflame, he ignored the urge, he had far more important things to do.

"Spike" he asked the tiny dragonling before him.

"Yes?" the small dragon shrank back.

"I am Sergeant Core vor Vask. I am here to escort you to the Dragon Kingdom, I trust you have no business to attend to in this..." he thought for a moment "...town?"

"Uhhhh...no." The purple dragonling responded.

"Then we will leave immediately...what is that?" Sergeant Core motioned to the suitcase Spike was carrying.

"It's my luggage."

"Luggage? You will not need anything, the Crunch requires only yourself."

"But-" Spike shrank again from Sergeant Core, he knew that Core was the kind of dragon accustomed to having everything he said taken as a direct order and Spike knew better than to argue. He left his suitcase lying on the train platform, hoping but not believing that nopony would take it.

"Climb onto my back Spike, it is going to be a long flight to Dun" Spike did as the Sergeant commanded and they were soon underway. Spike no longer had to wonder why Rainbow Dash was so entranced by flying. The icy wind whipped around him, stinging his eyes but at the same time pleasantly buoying him. Eagles circled around the two, curious as to what beast was encroaching on their sky, they spiralled away when Core snapped at them.

"Sergeant Core."

"Yes."

"Why don't you have any spines, you just have some ridges."

Core laughed "You will find out soon enough little one."

The sky darkened as night broke over the horizon. "You should sleep while you can Spike." Core suggested in his particular way that implied failure to take his suggestion would be...unwise.

It was difficult to go to sleep, his previous elation at flight was gone, replaced by a harsh awareness of the cold wind and hard scales that covered Core's back. Spike missed Ponyville more than ever, he imagined himself curled up on his bed, with a soft, fluffy pillow, and his extra-warm extra-comfy blue blankie. He attempted to rest his head on one of the nubs that extruded from Core's back. It was even harder than the scales. He eventually fell into a restless sleep.

"Wake up" came the deep growl of Sergeant Core. "We've arrived". Spike opened his eyes to the majesty of the mountains. Great ice-topped peaks loomed overhead, their spires plunging into great banks of cloud, the valleys beneath almost invisible through the mist. Spike forgot the previous night's discomfort, awed by the Dragon Range. The crags and fissures running along the sides of the mountains housed all manner of creatures that shared the dragon's home. Eagles once again followed Core, catching the wind generated by his beating wings. Core did not snap at these eagles, there was no need, they had learned, over the generations, that dragons are not to be touched. The eagles swooped down, passing through the mist that cloaked the ground.

Spike saw great plumes of smoke rising from the centre of a great mountain, it was significantly shorter than the great spires that surrounded it, with a large crater in the centre that housed bubbling, churning red liquid.

"What is that?" Spike pointed at the mountain.

"That is Dun, volcanic home of the dragons, the volcano forged these ranges."

"Volcano?"

"A volcano is similar to a mountain, but is connected with the womb of the world and spews forth liquid rock and ash."

"Why do dragons live here?"

"It is warm, and we can build great tunnels. Dun is a special dragonhome though."

"Why?"

"You will find out soon." Spike was getting tired of Core dodging questions.

Core spiralled lower and lower, slowing his fall so Spike would not be thrown off. The closer they got to the base of the mountain, the more dragons Spike could see. They were surprisingly small, only about double the height of an average pony, and nothing compared to the wild dragons he had encountered.

Spike jostled around as Core landed heavily on the ground, surrounded by dragons less than a quarter his size. Spike slid down Core's tail to the ground, kicking up a little ash. Core began shrinking, the noise was absolutely foreign, as if it had come entirely from another dimension. Core sighed with relief as he shook out the scales of his new form.

"What was that?" Spike gaped.

"We resize ourselves depending on the situation, most of the time we're this size, but when we want to fight or intimidate we expand accordingly."

"Why aren't you in big-mode all the time?"

"Because uhhh...'big-mode', as you call it, takes up more space, something in short supply underground, and because it has to consume much more food to survive."

"Oh" Spike's gut knotted.

"Don't worry Spike, you will learn our magic soon enough. You will learn the way I did."

"And what way is that?"

"You will know soon enough." Spike reddened in frustration and anger, why wouldn't Sergeant Core just answer the question. "Stay here Spike, I'm going to get us admission."

Spike stared up to the top of the volcano, ash fell in tiny flakes to cover the ground in a fine, grey coat.

He kicked a small rock, ash exploded from it's surface. The great thunder of large, beating wings echoed throughout the valley. An ice-blue dragonling, not much older than Spike jumped onto the ground next to him.

"Hello" Spike said tentatively.

"Hello. I am Jarh vor Shinq. Who are you?" the boy sounded regal.

"I'm Spike"

"Vor who?"

"What?"

"**Vor who? **Don't tell me your motherless."

"What?"

"Oh Father you are. I can't believe they're letting motherless ones in, I guess the King is more paranoid than we thought. Do you even know who the king is? Motherless." The boy made a face like he had stepped in something less than hygienic and trotted alongside his escort into the mountain. How could they let motherless ones in? Was the king** trying** to destroy the bloodlines? Jarh vor Shinq scoffed, he supposed they could be of some use as growers or shapers.

Core walked out of the volcano, his face impassive. "Come on."

"Who was that?" Spike asked.

"Who?"

"Jarh vor Shinq"

"Ahh. Jarh vor Shinq is the son of Shinq vor Yur, who is brother to the current king"

"He called me motherless..."

"**WHAT?**" Core's face contorted in fury, only to be forced back into his usual stoic expression. "Never mind him Spike. Let's go" He plodded inside the great cave, Spike followed as best he could, shaking off the ash that had collected on his scales.

"What does vor mean?"

"It means 'son of' or 'daughter of'"

"Whoa" Spike gasped at all the dragons congregating. Some had short ridges along their spines, like Core, while others had prominent spikes. Their tails also varied, some had a long, pointed spike, others had a large, bony, club-like end, Core had a long spike with two large barbs coming from the base of the appendage. Spike glanced at his own tail, it looked more like a shovel than a weapon.

"Sergeant Core! Sergeant Core!" a shrill voice hurtled throughout the cavern.

"Grind!" Core grinned, it seemed alien on his face, bare teeth plastered over a contorted face. "It's good to see you again!" Spike couldn't see over the dragons milling around the entrance, Core grabbed Spike and pulled him to his side.

"You never said you had a son!" a golden scaled dragon with ridges along her back exclaimed. Spike stared at the golden dragon, he didn't know how he knew she was female, by all accounts she was indistinguishable from Core anatomy-wise, but something in her manner and poise screamed femininity.

"I don't. This is Spike, he is my ward once his path has been chosen."

"No parents?"

"No parents."

"Bah. If any dragoness or her drake did not want this child they are either blind or stupid." She eyed Spike closely. "His scales are the thickest I've seen in one his age."

"I've been told he can already produce a flame."

"Really!" Grind inspected Spike some more, "that's very interesting".

"What are you doing here Grind?"

"I'm here with my son, Tune!" she called.

A small teal dragonling scuffled around from behind his mother. He smiled at seeing Spike. "Hi Spike! I'm Tune!"

"Hi Tune" Spike looked up at Core, "What did you say about paths?" Tune started twitching awkwardly.

"I think Tune would like to explain" Core replied.

"There are four paths that all adult dragons walk. You can only walk one path, the one that is chosen for you. The four paths are the Path of the Grower, they grow gems and minerals from rock to feed the kingdom, the Path of the Shaper, they weave the rock into homes and tunnel into the earth, they also use the lava to build up mountains if we need them, there's also the Path of the Scribe, they're the scholars and mages, recording down what the king does and researching stuff, and..." Tune cleared his throat, "There's what I'm going to be, the Path of the Warrior, they're the ones who learn how to fight and how to protect the Dragon Kingdom."

"It's not all like that Tune" his mother chided. "We were about to head over to the lava baths, if you two want to join us."

"We would love to, Grind" Core answered for them both.

They set off through the winding caverns and tunnels, journeying deep into the volcano. The heat became more noticeable the deeper they went. The tunnels were lit with luminescent gemstones hanging from the walls and roof.

They took passages down, it was a maze of interconnected tunnels and caverns, Spike thought they might be getting closer, it was getting hotter and dryer by the second. "Almost there" Core said to himself more than anyone else. Red light began seeping into the white and blue that showered from the gemstones. The red light began expanding more they walked, Spike wondered how long it would be, they had already been walking for a while.

"We're here!" Grind said in a sing-song voice.

Red light bathed the massive cavern, Spike could smell the sulphurous gases in the air and spied the small vents in the roof that prevented the cavern from choking. The pools bubbled lazily, dragons lounging in the heat and smoke.

"That one's free" Core pointed to an unoccupied pool on the far side of the cavern. Spike's eyes stung from the smoky haze as they crossed the room. Tune was the first in, he leapt from the edge to splash in the middle of the pool of bubbling liquid. His mother slid in after him, Core following her. Spike was rooted to the edge of the pool. "Come on, it's fine" Core reassured him.

"A-are you sure?" Spike gulped.

"Yes! Now get in!"

Spike stared at the molten rock not an inch away from him, no matter what Core said, it couldn't possibly be safe.

"Oh for Father's sake!" Core grabbed Spike by the scruff of his neck and dunked him in the bath.

Spike burst the surface of the lava, gasping for air. He stopped, a perplexed look adorning his face, it was...nice. There was a pleasant warmth to it, the bath seared all the grime and parasites off his scales, while his fireproof hide went unscathed.

Tune was constantly diving beneath the surface of the lava while Core and Grind chatted idly. Spike settled in the pleasant heat of the bath, it was difficult moving through the pool, the lava was thick and tarry. He was tempted to dive like Tune was, but he thought better of it, he wasn't a strong swimmer and the thickness of the lava would make it even harder to get to the surface if something happened.

"Come on, out!" Core's natural authority shining through again. Spike grumbled and slinked out of the pleasant warmth, the cavern was searingly hot, but in Spike's mind he might as well have stepped out into a freezer.

It took him only a few moments to adjust for the relative cool of bath cavern. He did his best to keep level with Core and Grind as they ascended back up the tunnels.

"Why did we get out? Nopony was trying to get in!"

"No-what?" Core seemed taken aback.

"Nopony"

"Oooooh. He means no-one" Tune chimed in.

"That's a weird way to speak" Core interjected. "Should be solved once you go to the Iron Father"

"Iron Father?" Spike asked. Before Core could answer, Tune could no longer hold himself back.

"So Spike-"

"What?" Spike's anticipation had already worn his patience to a nub.

"Calm down Spike." Core's tone indicated that this was an order. Spike breathed deeply in an attempt to calm himself, it didn't really work.

"...You ok?" Tune asked.

"Yeah."

"So...where did you come from?"

"Equestria"

"Where's that?"

"It's waaaaay east of here"

"What are the dragons over there like?"

"...uhhhh..." Spike fumbled. "...I wouldn't know. I stayed with ponies, the only dragons I met were wild and didn't like me very much."

"Ponies? You mean those things that live in those wood hut thingies?"

"Yeah" Spike's voiced cracked and his limped trembled as he mused over Ponyville and the gang.

Core was stunned, he had no idea how to handle this. No-one had told him that they would do...**this**. What should he do? Should he shout at Spike to stop, oh dear oh dear. The entirety of Core's internal conflict didn't touch an iota of his expression, but Grind seemed to tell something was off. She placed her claw gently on Core's forearm, this didn't help.

Core slapped Spike's back, too hard to be comforting, too soft to be chastising. Spike was stopped on the verge of tears, all his longing replaced by incredulousness with a healthy splash of confusion and growing awareness of the awkwardness of the situation. He faked comfort, hoping that Core would feel better.

No-one made a sound for what seemed like aeons. Grind coughed a little. Their heads snapped around to face her, desperate for any respite, any excuse, anything. "I was just thinking" Grind began nervously, very aware of the attention she was being paid. "We should probably turn in for the night, I mean, it's going to be a big week, should probably rest up." She punctuated her sentence with another small cough.

"Yes!" Core was desperate for some real sleep, the flight and spending so long in 'big mode' as Spike so eloquently put it, had taken a lot out of him, especially since he hadn't eaten.

They took the largest tunnel from the 'hub' cavern, which was porous with tunnels to the point where Spike was sure that it wasn't safe. They weren't squashed, but space wasn't exactly a plentiful commodity. The crystals jammed into the roof were larger in this tunnel, Spike's eyes stung from the strong white light, making shadows a thing that happened in other, less popular tunnels.

"We'll have something to eat and then bed" Grind suggested.

They emerged into another cavern, almost as large as the hub, with spiky outcroppings of diamond dotting the floor and walls. Small puddles were forming at Spike's feet, trails of saliva led from Spike's lips, feeding the tiny pools. Spike was about to rush to the nearest patch and see how long it would take to reduce it to bare earth when Core grabbed onto his tail.

"Hold up Spike, let's find an unoccupied one that we can all eat at."

"I guess." Spike huffed. They cut their way through the crowds milling around the various diamond patches. "How do you get so many diamonds? They're the rarest gem in Equestria".

Tune burst out laughing "the rarest gem! You think that!"

"What!" Spike didn't like being laughed at.

"They're not the rarest. They're the most common, you can't kick over a rock without finding some."

Jarh looked up from his meal and saw the motherless. It made sense that he was around dragons like Grind and Tune, so long as it didn't get any big ideas or ambitions into it's head. It wasn't that Jarh hated the motherless, he just thought they and everyone else should know their places, but why would they let it eat where everyone else ate?

Core led them to a small patch of clear diamond growing out of the ground. "C'mon, eat up!" Core pushed Spike closer to the patch, Spike didn't need any more encouragement.

The next few minutes were blurred amidst a sea of texture and tastes. The world came back into focus when Spike realised he had been shovelling dirt into his mouth. Core's eye ridges raised "eager eh?" he smirked. Spike blushed in embarrassment. Spike's stomach already distending, he watched the other's eat. Tune seemed to nibble at every growth, never making much headway, his mother, on the other hand, cropped the growths down to their roots in one bite and spent abnormally long chewing. Core grabbed his growths and tore them out by the root, then seemed to swallow the diamond whole. By the time their group was done, half the diamonds were gone and everything had small chunks removed.

"Ok" Core yawned. "Time to go to bed." Tune jumped up onto his mother's back as she was starting down another tunnel, Spike was about to follow when something tugged his tail. "No Spike, you're staying with me." Core lifted Spike onto his back, something Spike was very grateful for, his stomach harshly informing him he had eaten too much diamond.

By the time they had reached a far smaller chamber, with some small gem patches and a dragon-shaped depression in the earth, Spike's stomach felt like it was attempting to climb out his mouth. Core lowered Spike gently to the ground, he had to fight his military instincts, which were screaming at him to tell Spike to suck it up.

Spike lay on the hard ground where Core had placed him, to debilitated to move. Spike felt warmth and the familiar ridges on Core's back when he lay down in his depression. It wasn't long before Spike fell into a deep sleep.

The next week was fascinating, Spike discovered the libraries of Dun, with thousands upon thousands of scrolls, all in an odd language that Spike couldn't make heads or tails of. The old librarian reassured him that he would soon, after confirming that he would be part of the Crunch.

Core taught him a few things about draconic culture and how to avoid offending dragons who could quite literally tear him into dragonling chunks. Several of his lessons were required before they had been taught, something that drew undue attention to Spike and Core, something Core didn't like and made abundantly clear to Spike. Status was everything in Dun, if you had prestige, or a relative with prestige, the world was your oyster, if you didn't they always needed more Shapers. Spike had also learned that he could use anything in the entire city, as long as he put it back, dragons saw ownership much differently from ponies, no-one owned anything, they were just stewarding it for the Dragon Kingdom.

"So what will happen at the end of the week?" Spike asked Core.

"You will go to meet the Iron Father, and you will dream, and you will be nearly an adult in the eyes of the Dragon Kingdom. Your path will be chosen and you will follow that path unless you fail, then another path will be chosen."

"Who will choose my 'path'?"

"The Iron Father, all dragonlings go to the Iron Father, then they walk a path, then they are an adult and are free to do as they choose."

"So once I'm an adult, I can do what I want?"

"Within reason, we do not tolerate murder, or treason, and both are punished by death but you are free to come and go as you please, unless the King orders something."

"So what will happen when I 'go to the Iron Father'?"

"Your destiny will be decided."

"You ever get tired of being cryptic?"

"Sorry, but I'm not allowed to say exactly what happens, and it varies from dragon to dragon that even if I could, it probably wouldn't do you any good. Besides Spike, you'll find out in a day."

Spike huffed and put on his best sour face, but his insides were writhing in anticipation and excitement.


	3. The Iron Father

Spike awoke to Core's gentle nudging. "Come on Spike, it's time."

The familiar warmth of the deep tunnels comforted a tired Spike. They made a quick pace towards the entrance of Dun, passing a few, slower families escorting their own little ones.

The entrance cavern filled quickly with children and their parents, all anxious, all waiting. There was an uncomfortably long period of silence in the packed room, occasionally broken by an anxious parent's whispering to their children, or a painfully audible cough.

A howling wind pierced the city, echoing down the tunnels. Spike clutched his ears in pain, the shrieking still reverberating inside his head, the chill cutting to the bone. A dull orange dragon with bright red ridges landed roughly on the ground in front of the entrance, the howling wind dying down as soon as he did.

The adult dragons simultaneously started heading back down the tunnels, Core whispered "good luck" and followed them back into Dun. The dragonlings stood shivering, as much from fear as from the chill.

"I am Captain Ger vor Point, I will be your escort to the Iron Father. Follow." his booming baritone bouncing off the walls. Spike fell into the clutter of Dragonlings desperately shadowing Captain Ger, knowing that outside Dun, and without their mothers, they were prime targets of everything in the range whose first thought when considering a baby dragon was 'delicious'.

Spike shivered uncontrollably, the heat of Dun far behind them as they trekked up a mountain pass. The dagonlings huddled together, desperate to avoid the icy blasts of air and freezing mists. The pass suddenly steepened, Spike clawed at the path, desperate to gain a hold. It was now more a matter of climbing than walking, with some dragonlings slipping, skidding down to dislodge their unfortunate peers. Ger didn't look back. Spike glanced around for Tune, but couldn't find him, hoping that Tune was just ahead of him, Spike dragged himself up the slope.

There was no flat trail to rest on at the path's summit, only another slope. Spike had to grind down the descent, controlling his fall so he didn't whisk over the edge and plummet...Spike gulped...he didn't want to think about it. His claws, once a dull throb, now felt like they had been removed and replaced with pain. Spike looked at the large forest ahead, the roots unseen beneath the thick, white fog. Ger waited a few moments, allowing Spike and the others to catch a few breaths before he set off into the forest. Spike glanced around, the group that had filled the entrance cavern was noticeably smaller, he pushed the thought to the back of his brain, aware of the widening gap between himself and quite possibly the only protection from whatever dwelled in the forest.

Spike raced off into the woods, attempting to keep Ger in sight at all times, but it was difficult keeping up with the swift pace the captain set, and treacherous roots punished every misstep. The fog smothered Spike's vision, Tune was still nowhere to be found. Gradually, as they passed through the forest, Spike accumulated more and more debris, by the time they emerged Spike was sopping wet from running through the fog, leaves stuck to his body and face, sharp rocks and bits of root dotting his feet. Ger was taking a rest near the edge of the forest, Spike followed his example, picking his feet clean. It was a painful process, again his mind was cast back to Ponyville, and the soft grass, and the warm beds, and the hot baths, and the cool breezes. Spike's heart wrenched once again in longing.

Every time they got a chance to rest, the herd was noticeably smaller, now Spike could see almost every member of the group, he called out "Tune! Tune!". The dragonling turned to face Spike, his left eye closed and tearing, his right perfectly fine. "What happened?" Spike pointed to the closed eye.

"One of the needles got in, but don't worry, I'll be fine". Spike sighed with relief that his friend was all right. It was beginning to dawn on Spike that something about this place was special. Where not a metre away was lush forest, the ground beneath his feet was absolutely bare. The ground was barren and cracked, scorched free of life, but without any noticeable ash. Ger began walking again before Spike had any decent time to examine his surroundings.

A small speck on the distance seemed to be their destination. Spike soon found out who was the Iron Father. A great tree with shining dark grey bark towered overhead. Claws marked it's base, but all damage was superficial. It stood alone, amid a sea of barren earth, leafless, but certainly not lifeless. Spike could feel that this tree was alive, it's age unfathomable, this was a being that was ancient before Celestia even existed. Spike felt, in the back of his brain, the great tree stirring as they approached, a warm, comforting mind reached out and touched his own, then withdrew.

"This is the Iron Father, this is why Dun is the capital, the Iron Father was here before we ever arrived, when we attempted to burn this forest clear for a dam, the Iron Father would not burn. All our attempts to burn and cut the Iron Father were in vain, the Iron Father is indestructible, and immortal. You will sleep here tonight. Ger unfolded his wings and took to the air, leaving confused and frightened dragonlings in his wake.

The cold wind howled through the branches of the Iron Father. Spike felt the comforting mind reach out to his again, quelling his fears, assuring him it would be all right. He seemed to be the only one though, all the others' nervous habits were shining through. Tune was clicking his teeth together, others were curled up, doing their best to do as they were told.

"We should get to sleep, my mum told be the sooner you get to sleep, the easier it is." Tune informed Spike?

"What is _it_?"

"I don't know, she didn't tell me."

Spike tried his best to get comfortable on the loose, dead earth beneath their feet. He never got comfortable but he found a position that was slightly less uncomfortable, the ancient, comforting mind of the Iron Father reached out to him and helped him on his way.

Spike felt like it had been an age since he had fallen asleep, his stomach agreed. He brought his hands up to his face to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. "Aaaah!" Spike yelped in pain and looked down at his hands. They were startlingly different from when he fell asleep. His hands were much, much larger than when he left them last night.

"And I thought you were ugly _before_." A chortle sounded to his right. He craned his neck to see Tune, or what he thought was Tune. All his baby fat had seemingly melted away overnight. Tune's size had also changed, he was near indistinguishable from an adult male. Tune pushed a bowl of water Spike's way; they had obviously been laid out last night.

Spike stared at his own reflection. The baby fat was gone, replaced by long, sinewy musculature. His once-flat face had elongated into a proper draconic snout. His scaled had darkened, but still obviously purple. His green eyes were now much smaller in comparison to his head, and a brow of hardened scales stretched over their tops, protecting them. What was most jarring to Spike was how his thoughts had changed, they were, in essence, still the same, but had been tinted. It was like a blind dragon suddenly being able to perceive colour. As Spike looked into his own eyes, he could only think of one thing to say.

"Lookin' good Spike. Lookin' real good." He winked at his reflection, who returned the gesture.

Jarh roused himself, the harsh sun making it impossible to idle comfortably. He scanned his cohort apathetically, until he locked his eyes on the last dragon he wanted to see. "How could _he_ make it through!" Jarh ground his new set of razor-sharp teeth together. He had hoped the Iron Father, of all beings, would understand the importance of keeping the bloodlines as pure as possible. How could it let a motherless one reach adulthood?

Jarh gave himself a few calming breaths. It would be fine, he reassured himself, there's no way he'll be anything but a shaper. Surely the Iron Father has some sense about it. Still, he found it hard that a tree, that for all they knew was dead could choose fates.

"I don't know about you Tune, but without the soothing I would never have fallen asleep."

"What soothing?" Tune looked confused. A loud roar drowned out any response Spike might have had.

"Everyone back to Dun!" an irate Ger bellowed at them, his eyes reddened from sleep loss.

The newly juvenile dragons slipped into an ordered line behind Ger, retracing their steps. Spike was startled at how easy it was, what was once a bitter trial was now as simple as taking a breath. The forest practically parted to let him through, the debris littering the ground found no purchase on his tough flesh and scales. He easily avoided roots that would have sent him hurtling to the ground before.

What seemed a sheer cliff before was no more than a hill to Spike now. "So..." Tune began. "Did you find out your true name?"

"Huh?"

"Your true name, your a dragon, you should have one." Spike pushed his mind back to his time asleep, a few words entered his brain unobtrusively, like guests invited but previously unnoticed.

"Yeah-"

"Don't tell me!" Tune shouted at Spike.

"I wasn't going to." Spike knew what happened when someone got a hold of a true name, they controlled the dragon completely and utterly, their word was truth under a true name.

"Good. Hey Spike, did you know that you'll have the same name as your father?" Spike's face didn't change. "It's true!" Tune perked up. "First hatched males have the same name as their father, first hatched females have the same name as their mother." Tune closed his eyes smugly, revelling in his knowledge.

Spike retained his passive expression so well he might have been mistaken for Core. Tune's smile splintered. "You're no fun" Tune grumbled.

The trudge back to Dun was much quicker than the identical trudge he had taken yesterday. Parents eagerly awaiting their newly-grown offspring packed themselves into the entrance-cavern. Once-children found their sires, to be greeted with oohs and aahs at their new forms. Core was waiting at the edge, desperate to avoid being crushed in the swarm but wanting to see Spike. Spike rushed up to his mentor, who expressed subdued delight at Spike's growth, congratulating him on making the trip to the Iron Father.

The moment of rest was just that. Ger shouted for the juveniles to follow him down a tunnel. Grumbling, the juveniles prised themselves from the adoration of their parents, following Captain Ger down one of the thousands of passages that made up the city of Dun.

A decently-sized atrium greeted them at the end of the tunnel. "You will be called up, one at a time, to choose your path." Ger informed them, it was clear this had become routine over his long life.

Jarh scoffed at the speech, he already knew this. Once he applied a little pressure to the right people he got to choose his own path. The Iron Father wouldn't meddle in _his_ destiny! All the adults said there was no 'wrong path' and they were right, to an extent. There was no 'wrong path' but there were more correct ones.

Spike locked eyes with the blue orbs of Jarh vor Shinq, he gritted his teeth in anger as bile rose to his throat. He now knew the extent of the insult paid to him when Jarh spoke the word "motherless". His eyes narrowed at Jarh, who parried with a disgusted sneer, as if being in the same room as Spike should be a capital offence. Fire raced through Spike's veins, imploring him to strike Jarh, to repay insult with violence. Spike simmered inside his own brain, the harsh, bored drawl of Ger snapped him back to attention. "Spike! Get in there already!" Ger's patience was draining more quickly with each second Spike delayed. Tune patted Spike's shoulder nervously, he had seen exactly how sharp Spike's new teeth were. Spike would never admit it, but he was grateful for the reassurance.

The tunnel led him and Ger to quite possibly the second largest open space Spike had ever seen, which was very impressive considering the largest open space had a blue, curving roof. Dragons were crowded into rows of platforms that extended right to the ceiling, each jostling each other for a better view of the sandy floor that Spike now stood on. A great barrier separated the relatively barren floor from the tides of dragons squeezed onto the platforms. The only thing that Spike could actually see was a small stone slab with four stone objects resting on it's surface.

The king sat on his throne near the roof of the cave, his head resting in his claw, a thousand new juveniles coming through today, another thousand next year, and the year after that, and the year after that. But it was not all bad, his claw made a decent pillow once he'd gotten used to it. For the first time in an age the king was interested. This was interesting, Spike vor Nos, son of no-one. The king, Boj vor Gon, leaned back on his hand.

Spike took a confident step toward the table, he reassured himself that if he did mess up, as long as he acted like he didn't notice, everyone would want in on the secret and act like they didn't either. As he approached the table the small objects came into focus, they were ordinary, far too ordinary, suspiciously ordinary. There was a sphere, not much larger than Spike's thumb, a cylinder equally tiny, a cone and a cube. Spike felt a strange and sudden urge to pick up the cylinder, he swatted the desire, but, like a particularly hardy fly, it rose back up to bother him. He quickly gave in after seeing the impatient looks he was starting to get from the crowd anxious to see their own children, furious at the delay; because their child was special, the most special of them all, and why couldn't everyone see that!

As soon as the cylinder had left the table one of the simpering, weedy assistants to the king proclaimed in his appropriately simpering, weedy voice "Spike vor Nos walks the path of the warrior!" There was some vague shouts from the crowd, not all of them supportive. Spike placed the cylinder back onto the table and made haste down the tunnel with a cylinder marked above it's entrance. He dawdled just long enough to see the next one in line, a small female who picked up the cube and was informed of her future as a scribe.

Jarh strolled haughtily to the table. Suppressing his desire to pick up the cube he snatched the cylinder off the table, there would be no pathetic scroll-scribbling or book-pushing in his future. He made his way down the tunnel for the warrior-potentials and once again locked eyes with the motherless one. His stomach turned in disgust at the sheer audacity of the motherless. First he thought he could just join in the Iron Dream to make himself an adult and now he thinks he's worthy to walk the path of the warrior. Jarh resolved, he could cast off the motherless one from the path of the warrior, he knew that would be best for the Dragon Kingdom, none of the great bloodlines would give their daughters to anything but a warrior. Dun and the bloodlines you be better off.

Brilliant, Spike thought to himself, more time spent with Jarh, we're practically best buds by now. "Pfff" the reminder that he drew breath and was able to push it through his lips seemed to offend Jarh. Good.

Spike wasn't alone with Jarh for long, other juveniles who had chosen the path of the warrior gradually filled the small room. Captain Ger vor Point eventually entered.

"You are now potentials for the Warrior Caste." he informed them. "You have chosen the path of the warrior, Dun's most difficult path, this path is the only path that you can fail, there are no second chances, if you fail the tests, you're out. Your first test is the Test of Strength, it begins in a month, go to your families. You're dismissed."

Most of the new warrior-potentials stood stunned, overwhelmed by what had transpired in the past two days. Ger's expression indicated that he was now off-duty and, like most dragons who classified their days as 'duty' and 'off-duty', kept interested in one just long enough for the other to tick over.

Spike tried his best to find his way back to Core's quarters, he wasn't very successful. Eventually Tune found him, rolling his eyes at his friend's inability to navigate the labyrinth that was Dun. Tune told Spike he had become a shaper.

"I'm sorry. I know you wanted-"

"Don't worry about it Spike, it's done, all I can do now is enjoy what I got. Besides, my dad was a shaper so it's not got to be all bad" Tune smiled sadly, he really wanted to follow in his mother's clawprints. "Come on Spike, I'll show you something". Tune took a sudden left and led Spike upwards. Eventually they came to a small hole, it wasn't big enough to be a room, and was so obviously requiring more construction that that was the only word that could accurately describe it. Spike also noticed there was a thick silence, an eerie quality in Dun. "My dad made this for me when I get older, but if you ever need a place to think, it's here. No-one can hear you and you can't hear anyone."

"Thanks Tune." Mostly Spike just wanted to leave and talk to Core about the test, he had done the tests himself, so he must know something.

Tune guided Spike back to the room he shared with Core. Core was sitting up, his eyes glazed over by thought.

The two entering broke his concentration. "Hello Spike, Tune." He was more awkward than usual. He was always a little awkward, but when he was around Tune it became painful.

Tune took the hints that Core didn't know he was giving. "Well I'll see you later Spike"

Tune's footsteps got quieter and quieter until they could no longer be heard. "What was that about!" Spike glared at Core.

Core sighed, "I'll tell you the story later, but Grind and I have a history outside the army"

Spike's eyes met the floor, his expression softening. The sleep at the foot of the Iron Father hadn't rested him in the slightest, and his eyes strained in effort to remain open. His frustration at Core's avoidance sloughed into a sea of lethargy. He slipped into sleep the moment his head was on the ground.


	4. The Tests Part 1

Spike was busy preparing for the Test of Strength. Core had told him that, while they may not tell him anything about the test, the Test of Strength is unlikely to be a dance number. His brow beaded with sweat as he pushed the boulder up the mountain, the ground unforgiving and stubborn beneath the rock.

Spike groaned with effort, how had Tune convinced him that this would be good? He should probably stop listening to the new shaper. It was also interesting how all the boulders he moved up the mountain were a part of Tune's current project to create shrines to recently deceased dragons. All dragon graves were uniform, a single rock, without markings, placed near the tree that had been planted over the corpse. The tree was both hospital and prison to the dragon beneath it. The tree was meant to ensure the spirit of the dragon didn't go wandering, and preserved the spirit until the tree died. It was told, in some of the older stories, that the greatest of dragons' spirits raced toward the sky after the body had died, to become a great star, somewhere far away.

Spike felt the familiar warmth of the Iron Father inside his brain, staying just out of reach, smoothing his aching muscles. Sweat dribbled down his brow, his eye stung as a drop disobeyed the norm and slid over the scaly ridges above his eyes. He rubbed his face, fortunately he had recently learned how to retract his claws, making it a far less painful activity.

The boulder slipped a little, Spike hastily brought his hand to steady it. His eye still stinging he continued his slow, painful march. The summit greeted him like a family member he hadn't seen in a long time, with vague annoyance but at the same time tolerating his presence because it had to. His back pressed against the rock for support, he slid down into a sit, producing a high-pitched screech as his scales struck sparks on the flint.

He'd rest here for a little while then head off to the library, he told himself. He could understand the writings on the scrolls now and it wasn't often he learned an amazing skill overnight. He had tried writing in Draconic earlier, and found his writing shifted from Equestrian to Draconic wildly, words running together with runes, producing a garbled mess that only he could understand.

A gently breeze shifted the snow, at this altitude breath was precious, and Spike seemed unable to catch any. Contrary to popular belief, land doesn't stretch out for kilometres around when atop a mountain, especially not in the Dragon Ranges. At the summit of a mountain all Spike could see was the back end of another, bigger mountain.

Spike stretched his wings, he understood why Rainbow Dash was...Rainbow Dash. Flying was amazing, although no dragon could move as quickly as a pegasus, respective weights having a lot to do with it. He leapt from the mountain, wind howling around him, snatching away his breath. Flying was difficult, not in the sense that it was hard to do, just in the sense that a single mistake could turn Spike from a dragon into a red smear. His wings burst outwards, his whole body felt weightless, just for a moment, as the thin membrane between the 'fingers' caught air and drastically slowed his descent.

Small updraughts allowed Spike to glide his way back to Dun. The cool wind comforting his burning limbs, he suddenly folded his wings onto his back. He faced the ground as he plummeted, a dark purple spear, poised to strike the earth. The wind rushed through his scales, rustling his spines. It was all over too soon, the ground rushing to give Spike it's deadly touch, Spike knew it was now or never. His wings burst to their full width, steering him into a lazy glide. It was impossible for dragons to hover the way pegasi do, another question of weight and wing-beats.

He angled himself to hit another updraught, coming from a sulphurous gas vent in the surprisingly porous city of Dun. Spike landed as gracefully as he could, meaning his face nearly touched the ground before his feet. Needed to work on that, face-first landings could be described as 'unpleasant'.

He tried to make his way to the library. He followed the way he thought would lead him to the massive cavern. He was wrong, and his new guides were very irritated at the interruption of their private dinner. Why would the Iron Father have given him the amazing ability to breathe torrents of flame and read draconic, but fail to give him a functioning sense of direction?

"Thanks" Spike muttered awkwardly at his guides. Their faces still locked into looks of annoyance and disappointment. Spike slipped inside the library, hoping he would never meet those two again.

He trod quietly through the library, although no-one else seemed to know that libraries were supposed to be quiet. It was mostly scribes furiously debating one another, which naturally evolved into furiously yelling at one another. Some dragons seemed to be pulling scrolls at random, rapidly filling their arms with scripture, then, confused as to why they had taken so many scrolls, proceeded to leave with them.

Spike liked the mythology, and the stories, there were some great stories of the ancient dragon kingdom. There were stories from times before even Celestia was born, and far before the alicorns bound themselves to the sky and stars. Spike especially loved the really old stories, even more those about the Old King. That was what they called him, time had left his name to perish.

Spike unfurled the scroll and lost himself in the tales of the Old King and his five princes. The five princes were the greatest warriors that ever lived, some of them were cunning, like the griffon Wendel, others were strong, like the dragon Bellion. Spike didn't like Bellion as much as he liked Wretch. Wretch was a manticore, blessed with amazing intelligence and speed, he was shunned by the other manticores in his pack. Fearing he would take over the pack, the alpha cast Wretch out, where the Old King found him, recognising his potential the Old King took Wretch under his wing. When his training was done, he took the name Wretch to spite the alpha who cast him out. How this exactly spited the alpha was lost in translation.

Another of the five was Caeruleo, the greatest alicorn soldier to live. His magical prowess was unmatched for many years. Spike often wondered who Caeruleo really was, the records on him were scarce at best.

The last of the five was Lon the Red, a minotaur magician. Spike sighed, there were no minotaurs any more, Lon was apparently one of the last when he joined up with the Old King. He wondered what it would be like to see the downfall of your own species, knowing that you were the last. That kind of hopelessness made Spike shudder.

Spike was engrossed in _"The Pacification of the Thu'Gun"_ this time around. It told of the story of the Old King interrupting a cult of dragons, called the Thu'Gun, performing sacrifices. The Old King destroyed the temple and took the priests captive, freeing the sacrifices and brining order to what was then called Frai'za, now called Dun.

The Old King had hundreds of battles, in every one, he emerged victorious. He was a brilliant strategist and an even more potent warrior and mage. The current Dun society was based around the one on which the Old King founded his empire. Spike would occasionally daydream that he was standing beside the Old King at one of his great battles. He imagined the Old King was a large dragon, with shimmering silver scales, his claws the colour of pristine ivory. He imagined the five princes around him, as they battled waves of foes. Spike fantasized that his own power rivalled that of the Old King. The Old King smiled warmly at him. "Spike-" his kind voice began.

"Spike? Spike!" The old record keeper clapped his claws together in front of Spike, attempting to get his attention.

"Huh?" Spike said dreamily, his eyes looking at something very far away.

"The library is closing for the day, you have to leave."

Spike gathered up the scrolls and placed them back in the shelves, he knew if he took them away he would forget their filing, and if he put them in the wrong place, even if he just thought he put them in the wrong place, it would bother him all day. They weren't marked like the books at the library, the record-keepers and librarians seemed to have some kind of sense that Spike couldn't wrap his head around. How they could remember the places of every scroll in this massive library when Spike could barely remember where he took the Old King scrolls from was beyond him. But, then again, every dragon seemed to know how to get from their rooms to the dining hall and back again, a skill that continued to elude Spike.

Spike was very proud as he strutted into the room he shared with Core, he only had to ask for directions three times. He collapsed, letting the relatively soft earth of the living area lull him into continuing what was interrupted in the library.

Spike's eyes were painfully groggy today. His muscles stiff, he rolled onto his stomach.

"About time you got up. We've got to hurry, the Test of Strength begins in a little while."

Oh Father. Spike thought. Why did it have to be today? Rubbing life into his eyes he tore himself from the softness of the dirt to plod behind Core as they made their way to the dining area. Spike's stomach practically spun with anxiety, making it difficult to eat, but he managed to force a few diamonds down his gullet, barely a morsel to what he'd usually eat.

The minutes slipped by as quickly as tar, leaving Spike to ferment in his nervousness. Core told him that the test would take place in the outdoor arena, the one that held the pit fights and other displays of strength and violence that dragons found entertaining. After Spike was moderately certain that the diamonds in his stomach would stay there Core led him back into the foyer, wondering out loud how long it would take Spike to learn his own way around.

Ger was waiting in the foyer to lead the warrior-potentials to the arena. The ash collected on his outstretched wings, making him look like a particularly menacing statue.

Jarh smiled a little to himself. The motherless one would have a little surprise in his test. It would ensure that he wouldn't make it as a warrior, even if he did survive. Jarh wondered what the motherless would look like when it was done with him. Jarh's face fell, any loss to the dragon kingdom was something to mourn, but the motherless couldn't become a warrior, not if he had anything to say about it.

Ger led the warrior potentials to a grand coliseum, when they couldn't fit the fights in Dun's arena, they came here. The stands were eerily empty, with only the whistling of the wind breaking the silence. It had obviously gone without use for a while, the lack of red on the sand attested to that, but it was well-maintained.

"This is where the Test of Strength will take place!" the echo amplifying Ger's already vociferous voice. The king will sit there, he gestured to the dais, raised high above the crowd, giving an excellent view of the entire area. They trotted back outside, some were eagerly chatting amongst themselves, confident that they would pass the exam, others stewed in their fear of failure, going over what would happen should they fail. Spike flopped down on the grass, frost was beginning to come down from the mountains, to smother the earth in winter. This particular valley was surrounded by mountains on all sides, leaving no corridor for wind to pass through. The tips of some of the larger trees snapped around wildly, while not a metre below not a needle twitched.

A dragon, slight in build, slid along a branch above Spike, showering the purple dragon in pungent needles. "Sorry" the dragon laughed at the small piles that had collected along the ridges above his eyes and collected on the slightly sloping surface from his eyes to his nostrils.

"Come here." The dragon lowered himself down, clinging to his branch by his tail, and did his best to brush the needles off Spike's now-scowling face. Spike didn't say anything, it was difficult to hold anything in his head for very long, his fear was taking up too much space.

"Worried about the exam?" the dragon asked. "Don't worry, my dad did it a while ago, he said all they fought was two manticores, a hydra if you're very unlucky. Besides, you seem big and strong, you'll be fine Spike vor Nos."

"You know my name?"

"Everyone knows your name, you're the only dragon to come here without a clan in more than six centuries. I mean, sometimes dragons leave their clans or their clan expels them, but you never had one to begin with. That's weird."

"What an excellent summary." Spike's tone betrayed his frustrated boredom.

"No need to get snippy." The thin, red-scaled dragon slipped up again into the canopy, disappearing from sight. Ger's voice reverberated around the valley, calling them into the entrance for coliseum participants.

The portcullis complained loudly as it rose, it's spikes ripping up the earth. They were ushered into a dark room, the stones overhead occasionally dripped with water, condensed by the cold that seemed to waft off the stones and fill the room with chill. This was a room not designed to let someone rest comfortably, this was a room meant to put someone on edge. It was working.

Occasionally they would call names, the warrior-potential would stride confidently, or slink nervously out of the exit on the far side of the room. Spike's teeth reminded him of how cold it actually was, joining in the deafening orchestra created by all the remaining dragons.

"Spike vor Nos!"

The crowd cheered as Spike stepped onto the hot sand, the blinding sun as welcoming as a slap in the face. Wasn't it funny, Spike thought, that when you got anyone, ponies or dragons, together in large enough numbers to be a legitimate "crowd" they merged into a single, not too bright, individual.

A massive gate stood at the far side of the coliseum, flanked by four smaller doors. The great gate started rising, a loud trundling sound as chain and dragon worked hard to give freedom to whatever was inside.

The crowd erupted into great whoops of joy, whatever they were used to seeing come out of that gate made them very excited. Two of the smaller doors began opening as well, there was a collective intake of air as the crowd waited with baited breath to see what emerged. Two manticores slinked out of the smaller doors to prowl around, Spike had no time to consider the new arrivals before a deafening roar shook the arena and set the crowd to drum on it's seats.

Something large, clawed, very red, and just slightly translucent entered onto the sand. Spike felt more than heard it's footfalls, the top of the massive entrance scraping it's head, forcing it to duck to squeeze into the open air in front of it.

An ursa, not yet large enough to be an Ursa Major, but it couldn't be considered a baby, even if the word was stretched until the seams started to give. It hung in-between sizes, and seemed very angry about this.

Spike was fairly certain the dragon from earlier hadn't lied, and the test was meant to be, at most, one hydra or a few manticores. Certainly not an Ursa, coupled with manticores. Unfortunately, neither the Ursa nor the manticores seemed to be aware of this. The manticores lunged as Spike twisted away, the Ursa lumbered forward.

Ger stood next to the King. "Who let the ursa out!" He ground his teeth together, the King's attendants scuttled around him like beetles swarming around a larger, more dangerous animal, hoping for protection. "I'm stopping the match." Ger turned around, heading for the white marble corridor that led to the King's dais.

"Wait." King Boj vor Gon raised his claw. Ger froze and, begrudgingly, returned to the King's side. "Let's see what happens next." The King placed his claws back on the rests his icy, marble throne provided.

Spike's mind raced with quotes from the Old King and snippets of battle strategy. He repeated to himself "if you are battling a force to large to overcome, there are several options, the first is that the force could be split."

That was it! He knew exactly how he could split the ursa from the manticores. Spike launched himself into the air, his wings beating furiously as he rose as quickly as he could. The ursa bayed it's anger at lost food, it reared, attempting to swipe at Spike, but he was rising far too quickly. Spike continued his ascent, the greater distance he could get between himself and the ursa, the better.

Ringing filled Spike's ears and his vision blurred, pain erupted from his head. Clutching his throbbing skull he attempted to rise, to put some distance between him and the manticores, give him some time to rest. Instead he pushed against an invisible ceiling hanging far above the arena, Spike glanced around and saw the pillars extending from the outer wall into the sky. At first he had thought them decorative, but now he saw, at their tops, were etched runes of binding, generating the wall of nothingness that prevented any aerial battles from the eyes of the spectators.

The manticores had followed Spike, as hoped. A venomous tail lashed out at Spike, who ducked under the razor point. If he got hit by one of those the venom would make sure he had a less-than-pleasant day. Spike rolled awkwardly backwards, narrowly holding onto a decently sized chunk of his midsection, the click of the manticore's teeth smashing into each other drowned out by the general blaring noise that naturally emanated from all crowds.

Spike desperately thought how he could beat two manticores in an aerial battle and, like most quick thinking, Spike was doing far too much of it. Any plans he made were quickly crushed by the shifting momentum of the battle and every time Spike thought he missed out on an opportunity that happened _right now_.

Spike's new plan to defeat the manticores shattered under the weight of pain. He brought his claw down on the manticore's face, opening deep gashes in it's flesh. It howled it's pain to it's partner, and Spike to the opportunity to extract his claw from the manticore's mouth. He quickly flexed his fingers, nothing was broken, but teeth marks had become a resident on his palm and the back of his claw.

Suddenly, Spike's brain broke down before his thought had crossed the finish line into his mind. All thought ended, there was only action, and reaction. Muscle memory he didn't know he had, although he was fairly certain the Iron Father was aware of, moved and twisted to dodge attacks and capitalize on opportunities missed when the battle was cluttered by thought.

One of the manticores rushed to catch his throat in it's powerful jaws. Spike spun away, and saw his golden opportunity. The fleshy hooding on his tail-tip slid away, revealing the deadly blade beneath. Spike flicked his tail, slicing cleanly through the sensitive webbing of the manticore's wings. Able to catch the air with only one wing, the manticore dropped like a stone, wings beating hysterically, futilely. It hit the ground with a dull thud, and didn't rise. The ursa busied itself with it's opportunistic meal.

If the other manticore was discouraged by the death of it's partner, it didn't show. Spike saw another opportunity as it raced toward him, but, no, the risk to himself was too great. His main priority was to avoid injury, he had four other tests to go. Spike dove lower, putting him at risk of the ursa. Spike snapped at the neck of the manticore from underneath, rising like a shark to the unlucky fish. Bad idea;Spike spluttered, attempting to remove the chunk of mane from his mouth.

Spike felt...odd. He felt like something was building in his chest, a strange pressure. Whatever it was, it desperately wanted to escape his body, whether he had anything to say about it or not. Instinct snapped his head around, aiming squarely at the manticore. Incendiary venom, from the glands held in his chest, sprayed at the manticore. The venom contacted the air and ignited, producing a vibrant green river of heat and light that swallowed the manticore. The crowd 'ooh'ed and 'aah'ed. The smell of burning hair and flesh filled the air.

The 'manticore' fell from the sky. That's what happens when things have been burned that badly, they have quotations put around any previous description. Spike gulped, the easy part was done. The fact that what had just transpired could be legitimately called the 'easy part' flipped Spike's stomach.

Spike thought back on the lessons that the Old King and Core had taught him, "if a force can't be divided or ground out, a weak point is the best way." Spike repeated. Well the ursa was female, so the obvious was out. Spike scoured the ursa, desperately searching for something, anything, that may help him.

He didn't know they could jump that high.

Spike slipped through the rows of jagged teeth before they had a chance to sever his connection to organs he wished to hold onto. He was in the middle of an ursa's mouth. A massive tongue attempted to throw Spike back into the rows of powerful teeth, desperate to convert him into easily-swallowed pulp. Spike dugs his claws into the sides of the tongue, producing a roar that shook the wet, dark cavern and a renewed attempt to put him in harm's sharp, tooth-shaped way. He wondered if pony rodeos involved this much saliva. Spike looked around, assessing his surroundings, a single way was presented. Spike couldn't go back out the mouth, the ursa wouldn't appreciate his attempt, and he didn't want to have to cross the deadly, white threshold. Going into the cheeks wouldn't do him any good, so that left only one option.

Spike threw himself into the back of the ursa's throat. He dug his claws into the fleshy walls of the descending tunnel. Any slip and he would fall to his caustic death. His shoulders burned as the ursa coughed violently, pushing Spike back into it's mouth, and it's teeth. Spike heard the howling of wind, amplified by the acoustics. The coughing resumed. Spike's face was sticky with dislodged mucus. Suddenly, Spike knew exactly how to defeat the ursa.

He let go. Sliding down the throat, with only the sound of rushing air to guide him, it was less than a second before he had to dig in again. His claws raked the front of the throat, globules of blood welled up, slicking the already wet surface. Spike scrambled into position, his muscles shrieked their discomfort. He faced the tube that led to the ursa's lungs.

Now all he had to do was wait, much easier said than done.

The coughing rocked Spike back and forth. His grip was failing as the ursa's blood ran down his arms, disgustingly slippery. Spike was fireproof, but this wet heat sapped his strength, his scales lifted slightly, allowing him to sweat, but it only made him itchy.

Spike felt it before even a whisper sounded.

The flame greedily devoured the air as the ursa sucked it down it's windpipe. There wasn't any roar of pain, just an odd shudder, followed by racking coughs. The ursa opened it's mouth wide, the dammed light flooded the biological cavern. Spike looked down the windpipe, the walls were charred black, every cough pushed the black tar-like substance closer to Spike. It never got out of the windpipe. Spike felt the ursa fall, the crash finally shook Spike free, he yelled his fear. This was it, he would fall into the stomach and suffocate on the gases there.

When nothing happened Spike tentatively opened one eye. He might have fallen to his death before, but the ursa's pitch forward had turned down to backwards and up into forwards.

Spike crawled out of the ursa's mouth. His face was spattered with mucus, his entire body covered in a thin coating of sweat, resting on top of a thick layer of saliva, his arms were soaked in blood, and his entire body felt like it was comprised of mostly wet hay. But he was alive.


	5. The Tests Part 2

Jarh shook with fury. How could the motherless survive something like that! His plan hadn't absolutely backfired, he had aroused the attentions of the nobility, and some of them would have enough sense to see him for the threat he was. Jarh tapped his claw against his teeth as he strolled through the gardens, which only the king and his relatives had access, producing a rhythmic ticking that helped him think. He'd have to find some other way to get rid of the motherless. He couldn't do anything to the Test of Flight without affecting the other warrior-potentials, but, he reassured himself, there were more than two tests.

Spike was borne from the sand floor on the backs of larger dragons. The crowd drowned out every sound, even Spike's own thoughts, with their cacophony. They were throwing things onto the sand, Spike couldn't tell what they were, his eyes were having trouble focusing. A flower, thrown by a talented spectator, smacked Spike in the face with bewildering force. It had three spotted petals, thing and long, extending from a purple centre, eventually reaching red at the very tip, the strong odour of pine originated from the fleshy fronds that sprouted from the centre of the petals. Spike laid his head back on one of the dragons supporting him.

Spike lay in one of the few comfortable spots outside the coliseum. He could rest here as long as he liked, although that wasn't really an option. Tune had joined Spike once his 'stretcher' placed him down. "Oh Father! That was amazing! The manticores were like..." Tune impersonated an angry or heavily constipated manticore, it was difficult to tell. "And you were like..." Tune struck a heroic pose.

"Tune-"

"And the ursa was all..." Tune roared, Spike hoped he would never hear anything so depressing again.

"Tune-"

"And then you!" Tune performed some incomprehensible mimicry. "And green fire!"

"Tune!" Tune seemed peeved at being interrupted during another heroic pose. "Thank you." The throbbing in Spike's head dulled slightly.

"Oh Spike, something you might want to know." Tune beckoned Spike to come closer. Spike stared at Tune, getting the message, scuttled closer to Spike's ear. "I saw a light-blue dragon skulking around the creature pens just before your match."

"What!" Spike forgot his pain for a second, one that swiftly ended. The grass stirred as Spike slumped back down. "Jarh..." he muttered under his breath.

Spike saw a pair of eagles, both hunting a large crane, working together to bring down the large prey. One locked talons with her prey, they spun while they fell, a deadly ballet. They battled for control, the crane attempting to push the eagle away, the eagle attempting to overpower the crane; it may have been an even contest, but the crane had been tired by the first eagle. Spike saw the crane beginning to falter, shuddering with strain. Once near the ground, the fresh eagle used her talons to throw her tired prey into the hard earth. The crane twitched grotesquely, it's wings were deformed, small splotches of blood stained it's white feathers. The two eagles descended, enjoying the sustenance their kill provided. The crane had wandered a long way from home. It would not return.

Spike slipped a little into the peacefulness that was the Iron Father.

He recovered quickly, the ache in his muscles dulled and he felt an emotion not usual for those covered in mucus and saliva, pride. He climbed one of the larger trees, it was easier to take off with the ripping winds, they were fond of seeing the treetop dwellers attempt to fly. He spread his wings, the wind grabbed them forcefully and dragged him into the sky. Spike wobbled slightly, 'recovered' does not mean 'good condition'.

Fortunately the wind favoured him, he would have had to spend the night covered in saliva otherwise. Trotting down the corridors, he attracted stares, some admiring, some scornful. Spike was all for the admiration, but he wasn't sure he liked some of the attention his test had given him.

For the first time since he had arrived at Dun, he was able to find the lava baths without asking for directions. He sank into the fiery pool, feeling the coat the ursa had given him sear and evaporate in the heat. Spike dipped his head beneath the surface, his third eyelid closing to protect his eye from the heat. Spike acknowledged the necessity of the third eyelid, but didn't appreciate the blurring effect it had on his vision.

Spike lifted himself out of the pool, small droplets of lava seared black patches onto the ground as they rolled off his body, but at this point it was impossible to ascertain the ground's original colour. Snatching up the flower that nearly bruised him, Spike again, oddly, found his way back to Core's chamber. Core was not happy.

"What were you thinking!"

"What?" Spike honestly didn't know what Core was talking about.

"The fight. Why did you go through with it! It was obviously too difficult. It's was bad enough the nobles knew you didn't have a clan, but now you've shown them you're a valid threat!"

"It's not my fault they released an ursa! And how could I not go through with it? It's not exactly like the manticores would wait politely at a stop signal! Besides, I thought you said that prestige was what being a dragon was all about!" Spike fumed, how could Core think that?

Core sighed, this was accomplishing nothing. "There's a time for everything Spike, even recognition. Just don't do anything else to attract attention." Core spoke softly.

"I wont." Spike spat back. Spike's tail swept loose earth aside as he walked out, his every muscle showing his anger. How could Core think that it was his fault?

Core rubbed his eyes, he was tired, he hoped that this would blow over in a month or so. As long as Spike didn't do anything to attract the attention of the nobles for a month they would find something else to talk about.

Spike paced around the largest entrance to Dun, could what Core said be true? Could he be a target for the nobles? Eventually Spike's eyelids felt heavier than the rocks he pushed for Tune. He hoped Core would be asleep by the time he got back, he didn't want to look him in the eyes for a little while. Spike didn't have to that night.

The next day Tune seemed to be more excited than usual, which, considering his usual, was frightening. "Nice flower" Tune commented.

"Oh?" Spike looked down at the flower he had gained during the Test of Strength. It had yet to start withering, something Spike considered rather odd, but every day the pine smell grew, a few more weeks and Spike would have to leave it at home.

"Looks like a Red-Tip Leopard, you find them in the royal gardens."

"Huh." Spike looked at his flower with renewed interest. Someone very important had taken an interest in him.

"Your Majesty, why did you make me throw the flower?"

"Ger" King Boj vor Gon's sly grin grew. "The boy put on an amazing show for us. I've never seen green flame before, don't you think that he deserves at least a little something?" Ger didn't answer, he knew there was no point in continuing. But the lack of conversation was one of the reasons he chose to guard the king

Spike slunk back into the room he shared with Core. Core was awake. Spike's indignation seethed anew, he began to speak but Core cut him off.

"Spike. I want to apologise for before. You couldn't have known the consequences of the test at the time, and I can understand how you acted the way you did."

Spike's indignation evaporated like a drop of water in the lava baths. He sighed, remorse began welling up as he thought over his response. Spike's voice was small. "I'm sorry too. You were trying to look out for me. Sorry." Core placed his claw on Spike's shoulder. They slept easily.

The month between tests passed with little happening. The whispers, once filling any room he entered, eventually ebbed away. He was back to being a, relative, face in the crowd. The next was the Test of Flight, Spike smiled, he considered himself a talented flyer, at least among dragons. His wings caught a small breeze, although it didn't bear him into the air like some of the winds around Dun, it eased his take-off.

His route took him past the cemeteries, a few new trees told the stories of those who didn't pass the Test of Strength. Spike circled them, paying his respects.

The wind began picking up, stirring leaves from trees, sending them spiralling down, contributing to the cold, wet mulch that developed over the cemetery ground. A single tree had fallen, large and powerful, it had smashed the branches of the trees around it. Spike landed near the hole it had left in the ground, some roots still remained, gripped by the ground so tightly the tree left them behind. Even now Spike could feel seeds, dormant beneath the earth, begin to wake, growing, seeking the sun that now flooded their world. The fungus and lichen were already growing on the corpse-tree. And so the dragon-spirit returns to the earth.

Spike leapt from the cliff, the easiest way to take off was usually avoiding taking off at all and just falling into flight. Spike thought on his upcoming test. He was a decent enough flier, so he wouldn't have much trouble, he would...how did Rainbow Dash put it? 'Wing it'. Yes, he chuckled to himself, he would 'wing' the flying test. Spike would soon learn that, despite the wording, this was a terrible idea.

The wind was absent the day Spike had to take the test. He waited at the entrance to Dun, the ash fell directly down, something that didn't happen often. Spike had grey scales by the time Ger arrived. The booming voice he used to address the warrior-potentials made an appearance. "This is the Test of Flight, I will be taking you one at a time. This test will take place over several days. Do not tell anyone what you experienced during the examination. First up: Spike vor nos."

Spike gulped, even though he was a good flyer this was still an exam. Butterflies hatched in his belly. He followed Captain Ger up one of the larger mountains. Ger's voice carried far at this altitude, Spike wondered if the other warrior-potentials would hear anyway.

"This test is simple, catch Tir vor Pruue, she is over there." He gestured to a cliff next to their own, a near-black dragoness poised on the edge, her weight causing small rocks to tumble over the edge. She dived from the cliff, a scaly eagle silhouetted against the long sunrise. She soared with a majesty Spike had never seen before, his awe was broken by Ger.

"I suggest you start Spike, if you expect to catch her." Spike scrambled over the cliff, wings springing open in time to capitalize on the fall. Spike raced after Tir, the wind bit into his face, loose twigs, floating in the breeze, stuck like thunderbolts, Spike's third eyelid closed, blurring his vision but protecting his fragile eyeball from damage. Tir blurred into the dark mountains on either side, Spike was lost.

He angled his body upwards, catching one of the many thermals in the Dragon Ranges he soared high above the mountains. He finally caught sight of Tir again, nearly a kilometre ahead of him, she was fast. Incredibly so.

Spike tilted himself toward the ground, gravity worked in tandem with his own wingbeats to push him toward Tir. Wings burning, sweating furiously, he managed to position himself over Tir, now it was just a matter of-

She dove. Slipping silently into a tunnel in the top of a mountain. Spike clamped his wings to his sides and fell. He used the wind, a constant force pushing him upward, to steer. Spike passed into the vent, less quietly than Tir.

Spike hissed in pain, his wing throbbed where he had made the entrance just a little bit wider. It was a tight fit, and the absence of any other sound let the rushing wind reach a deafening pitch, the lack of light didn't help. Spike had to keep diving, any attempt to stretch his wings and he could expect to lose them.

Spike was just beginning to adjust to the low light of the tunnel until it suddenly widened out into a large cavern, filled with Dun's blue light. Spike's wings flared out, bringing his descent to a swift end above some particularly sharp, luminescent stalagmites. Spike's vision adjusted to the excess of light more quickly than they had to it's absence. Tir was just up ahead, Spike spurred himself forward.

Another tight fit, Spike had to fight to control his glide, any wingbeat could kill him, as well as any drop or rise. The flat, wide tunnel was hell, but he was getting closer to Tir with every second.

Spike saw daylight, filtering in from a vertical line up ahead, the tunnel was gradually expanding as he approached, giving him just enough room to move. Tir suddenly shifted flying positions, her wings perpendicular to the ground, she passed easily through what looked to be a large crack in the wall. Long and vertical, any attempt to pass through normally would probably kill him. As Spike got closer and closer to the crack he attempted to mirror Tir.

He had tilted too early and drifted slightly to the left, or was it up now? Pain laced through his back as his spines scraped against the wall, dislodging earth and scratching rock. The next participant would certainly have an easier time with that section. Spike burst out into the open. The cold air bit his lungs and made him acutely aware of each deep breath he had to take. Tir was just up ahead, moving slower than usual. Spike chuckled to himself, it must have been tough on her as well.

Spike only had to push himself a little to catch up with her. A terrible thought crossed his mind, the terrible thought that this was too easy, that it had to be a trick. The worst part was that it was. Her hind claws suddenly closed around his. "Oh dear." It was all Spike had time to say.

They spun as they fell, mirroring the eagle and the crane. It was impossible to bite at her, attempt to injure her, the rushing wind locked his head in place. Spike attempted to gain control over the dragoness, but he was tired, and she was strong. All he managed to do was stave off her throwing him to the ground, if he could just hold on a little longer.

It happened, the threshold was crossed, they were too close to the ground, if she attempted to throw him down, she wouldn't recover in time to save herself. Her claws released Spike, he followed suit, neither feeling that killing the other was worth their life.

She landed on a nearby ridge, her smirk taunting him. He surged toward her, she raised her claw, signalling for Spike to stop. It was impossible to screech to a halt while flying. Spike more thumped to a halt.

Brushing small pieces of dirt and rock out of his spines and scales. "You know" Tir's voice was lithe and silken. "Usually I test the aerial combat a bit more, it's kind of funny, they think they're so brilliant until you've got them by the tail and swinging them around like a doll. But I saw you against those manticores, so I know you're not completely incompetent."

"Thanks." Spike's voice had sarcasm spread on with a spade.

"No need to get snippy with me." Tir feigned insult. "I can make you do this whole test again you know."

Spike didn't speak again until he was safely in the company of Captain Ger.

"Well done Spike. You have exceeded all my expectations." something in Ger's tone indicated this wasn't a compliment. "There's a congratulatory dinner in two days, after everyone has participated in the Test of Flight, if you're not there the Path of the Warrior will be closed to you."

Spike went back to Dun alone. He had to tell Yiy vor Tonm that it was her go on the Test of Flight. She laughed at Spike, asking him, jokingly, how hard it could be. A smirk creased Spike's face. She trotted out into the falling ash while Spike He didn't have to ask for directions any more.

Spike once again delved into the heroic adventures of the Old King. He was currently up to the assault on Girren, The Five and the Old King were surrounded by the enemy after their attack on the fortress failed. He found Tune in the library, the pile of scrolls that Spike usually had around him like a parchment fort.

Spike approached cautiously, Tune wasn't smiling. "Are you ok?" Tune's head snapped up to face Spike, surprised at the interruption.

"Yeah Spike, I'm fine" Tune sounded tired.

"Come on Tune. We're friends. Are you in some kind of trouble or something?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I'm just..." Tune trailed off, his gaze lowered, unable to meet Spike's eyes. "I'm just...trying to find something, I suppose."

Spike didn't want to push his friend, not if he didn't want to discuss it. "Ok Tune. I understand. I feel that way sometimes, but if you ever want to talk..."

"I know, thanks Spike."

Spike left the library, hoping that Tune would be all right.


	6. The Tests Part 3

_A/N: Sorry this update took so long. On an unrelated note Skyrim is awesome and exam period is over. _

The next day Tune seemed to have found whatever he was looking for. His bright, perky manner was accentuated by Spike's lethargy. Spike's bleary, strained eyes had difficulty keeping track of Tune. Spike was certain that Tune couldn't teleport, but he certainly came close. "So what's the celebratory dinner all about?" Spike wondered aloud, very aware Tune couldn't help but answer.

"I don't know." This wasn't the answer Spike expected.

"What?"

"I don't know. I have no idea what the celebratory dinner is about. They have it for every warrior-potential that passes the second test, but no one talks about it." Spike grunted his frustration. "Hey, I wish I could tell you more, but that's all I have." Tune shrugged. "Guess you'll just have to go to it and see what happens." Tune's eyes brightened. "Maybe it's to test your politicking skills."

Spike cocked an eyescale ridge. "Hey, politicking is pretty important." Tune assured him. "Once you're a warrior, you have to play nice with the king and the upper-class and the important clans." The thought of 'playing nice' with Jarh was distasteful, to say the least.

"See you later Spike. I have to get to the new tunnel. We're finishing construction today." Tune vanished down one of the various side tunnels that Spike never explored. He had just gotten familiar enough to find his way around the basic areas in Dun, why screw that up now? With sudden time on his hands Spike followed the tunnel down to the library. An afternoon spent reading more stories about the Old King was just as well spent as an afternoon worrying about the next test or trying to hold down bile at the thought of politicking with Jarh.

Spike plucked one of the scrolls tucked away in the back of the small hollow devoted to the Old King. He had previously skipped over the dusty parchment, they held no stories of the Old King's epic battles or of the five. It mostly detailed the early life of the Old King. The ribbon seal cracked as he unfurled the parchment, the stink of age and neglect hung in the air. Spike carefully brought it closer so he could read, afraid the parchment may crumble in his hands. Spike had to squint to make out some of the faded characters.

"The Mastery" he read to himself. It detailed the Old King gaining his powers through the mastery of both his body and his mind. It was surprisingly detailed regarding the exercises he performed to gain these states. Spike wondered why this scroll wasn't read by every dragon in Dun, it clearly detailed the process of mastering your body and mind. Spike hunched his shoulders, convinced he was reading a well-kept secret rather than a single scroll among hundreds that just didn't get as much attention as the more popular stories.

"Once he fully understood what it was, he also knew what it was not, it was his to shape and control. A body that would not feel hunger unless he permitted it, a body that would not age without his consent." The scroll detailed the breathing and conciousness exercises that were at the heart of the mastery of body. The mastery of the mind was similar, although with a great deal more complexity. Total understanding of the mind was far more difficult than total understanding of the body.

Spike trialled some of the exercises. His breathing became deep, and low in his lungs, he pushed his mind back. The Iron Father assisted him, the warm presence making the initial leap far more easy. Spike suddenly felt keenly aware of the internal workings of his body. He felt the air pass from his lungs into his blood, the movement of blood within and around the frantic heart. As the breath passed his lips, it was over. The sudden attention to the world around him, at the cost of his inward perception, was jarring, like being plunged into icy water.

Spike heard the scuffling of feet, a small sneeze of one of the custodians. He saw the faint, unobtrusive glow of the strange minerals embedded in the roof. Every sense had an edge to it. Head throbbing from his adventure, he made his way back to Core's cavern, scroll gripped tightly in his claw.

The congratulatory dinner was rapidly approaching. Spike was twirling the flower nervously between his claws. He hoped it was just a congratulatory dinner, but his gut told a different story. "You'll be fine" Core casually reassured Spike, not looking up from his work. Spike didn't believe him, he could feel that something was wrong, a congratulatory dinner was rather unusual. If it was a bluff, it wasn't a good one. "It's probably about time you went." Core didn't look up as Spike left the room. Core smirked to himself, playing the night of his own congratulatory dinner over in his head. A small chuckle escaped his lips, his only distraction from paperwork that night.

Spike loitered near the entrance to the congratulatory dinner, there was obviously mixed feelings regarding the event. Some dragons strutted into the hall, convinced that it was indeed a congratulatory dinner and they were worthy of the congratulation, others snuck in behind them, trying not to be noticed. Spike took a deep breath, steeled himself, and walked through the entryway.

Dragons brushed past him on all sides, the congratulatory dinner included more than just the warrior-potentials, various important dragons from equally important clans sauntered around the feeding areas, critically evaluating every aspect of the hall and crinkling their noses in disgust. They had a collective look of repressed horror as they awkwardly shuffled about, desperate to avoid physical contact with the warrior-potentials and each other. If they ever followed a path, they had long forgotten any lessons they had been taught.

Jarh's expression of boredom was alone amongst anxious or arrogant faces. Boisterous guffawing assaulted his ears, he sighed, he had never particularly enjoyed loud places or crowds. He knew what was going to happen, but he had to play along anyway. What needed to be done was already done, so all he had to do was wait.

Spike had to shoulder his way around the hall, the warrior-potentials were kept from the clan leaders at their behest, packing them all into a rather small area. The clan leaders ate from their personal feeding area. Spike followed a larger dragoness to their feeding areas, slipping in next to her, shoving a surprised and disgruntled dragon off his food. Spike smiled an apology. The dragon seemed to accept it. Spike pushed his worries aside. The spread was sumptuous, gems of every colour, every shade, every flaw and perfection was spread out in front of them. The best gems were long gone, Spike reminded himself. He was unable to picture how they might have looked.

Spike ate the way every pauper does when confronted with a feast. He gulped down the gems, barely bothering to taste them. The goal was to get as many as possible in his gut before the other dragons got at them. Only when the feeding was over did anyone bother with the pools of clear water that lined the walls. Spike was one of the first to reach the pools, plunging nearly his whole head into the water, he inhaled desperately. Gems were delicious, but they left the dragon thirsty.

Spike's stomach full of mineral sloshing in water, he rested in one of the calmer areas of the hall. He looked at the slower dragons, trying to extract as much water as they could from the muddy dregs that rested at the bottom of the newly-empty pools.

Spike yawned, a few others followed suit. Every blink Spike had to drag his eyelids open. Most of the dragons had left by now, leaving only a few stuffed, tired dragons still trying to see how the mud tasted.

Spike managed to wander a small distance out of the hall. His muscles felt unusually heavy, it became difficult to walk. Keeping his eyes open was a chore. Spike collapsed, the hard earth sending pain through his knees and jaw, then only darkness.

Spike woke up. How much time later, he couldn't say. Blackness was all around him. It wasn't the soft blackness of closed eyes but a harsh, chilling black. Spike tried to sit up. His head smacked against as unseen barrier. He felt around, trying to assess his surroundings. He found barriers on all sides. He was trapped in the dark. Claustrophobia set in. Spike's breathing became erratic and shallow. Fear infused his mind. He impotently slammed his fist against the top of his tomb. The Iron Father seeped into him, his breathing deepened, he no longer pounded on the coffin, fear crawled back into it's dark hole. He pushed his conciousness inward, he had to do his best to conserve what air remained. He felt around his body, looking for any way to save oxygen, his heartbeat was too fast, consuming large amounts of any air he might grasp. He slowed it down, only slightly, any slower and he might die before he ran out of air. He constricted his bronchi slightly, every breath would be a battle, but it would help eliminate any dead space in his lungs.

The next step was freeing himself. Spike squirmed about, he couldn't raise his knees enough to try kicking out the wall, he couldn't lever his elbows and shoulders properly to give the top a big push, which left only one road. Spike positioned himself as comfortably as he could, the movement was tiny, barely an inch, but he struck the top with his fist. Pain shot through his knuckles, forgotten in his fear, now aggressive. Spike stopped himself from hissing in pain, it would use up too much air. He struck again, in the same place. A dull routine set in. Spike gasped as the air became bad, every breath was less satisfying. He thudded away against the top. Spike pushed his conciousness inward, drinking in the assurance of the Iron Father. He felt the pain far more acutely. He also felt hope, every time he struck, the pain became smaller as the wood gave quarter, unnoticeable without his strange awareness.

Spike's gasps became desperate as the air ceased to provide any sustenance at all. The routine of strike, breathe, strike faded away amidst Spike's fear of death. He held the breath he took, convinced it would be his last. With the strength of desperation, Spike lashed out at the coffin. A small, fist-sized hole appeared in the top of the tomb.

A tiny shaft of dusty light entered the coffin, bringing with it cool air. Spike gulped greedily, relaxing as the horrid atmosphere was gradually replaced. Spike ripped the small hole wider. Finally getting enough space to lever his elbows, he tore the top half of the box off. Spike blinked the harsh light from his eyes, quickly adjusting to the bright room. He lifted himself into a sit and slid out of the coffin. He was in a room, coffins exactly matching his orderly lined into rows and columns, reminiscent of Applejack's orchard trees.

A small, slow clapping could be heard echoing around the coffin farm. Spike turned to see Ger walking toward him, boredom destroying any expression he may have had. "Twelfth out. Spike vor Nos." His clapping ceased as he wrote something down on a large scroll of parchment. "Stand over there until the test is over." Ger gestured to a far wall where a few other dragons lounged.

Only two talked, one dragoness watched the test with a scowl, scorning others for weakness she would never know. More dragons hatched from their coffins, Jarh smirked at him, bile rose in Spike's throat. Eventually Ger returned, followed by a small group of warrior-potentials. They were all weary, some had lines where shed tears had run, some stank of urine, others simply breathed deeply and furiously, grateful for the air. Ger pointed, the group left. They had failed.

"Congratulations on passing the Test of Courage." Ger didn't smile. "Go to your coffin and collect your Stone of Breath."

One of the other potentials asked before Spike could even open his mouth. "What is a Stone of Breath?"

Ger sighed, this was clearly not the first time he had been asked that question. "It's a small, white rock attached to the bottom of the box. It gives the feeling of losing air but actually replenishes it, it prevents this test from killing you." He put unnecessary emphasis on the last two words.

It was easy enough to find his own 'box', the grain and colour of the wood was burned into his brain. The varnishing and type of the wood made the box incredibly hard, but not very flexible. Spike prised open the large compartment at the bottom of the box. Only air was inside. Spike scanned around, other dragons pulled white-chalk stones from theirs.

Spike knew who was behind this. Rage filled him, intoxicating in it's totality. Spike spat the words at Jarh like a curse. "Jarh vor Shinq!" he called to him. "You failed to kill me during my Test of Strength, and you've failed again!" He point an accusing finger at Jarh, motioning to the empty compartment for emphasis. Jarh bit his lower lip, an action that passed in a second, but Spike picked up on it, it confirmed his guilt in his eyes.

Jarh matched Spike's roar. "I call for your witness to these acts! If I have done what you say, surely someone must have noticed beside yourself."

Stupid, Spike thought to himself, how could he have not seen this coming? He didn't want to drag Tune into his battle with possibly the most powerful family in Dun. Spike's anger flowed away as quickly as it had arrived, cold set in. Spike kept silent. He would think of the perfect response tomorrow.

"That's what I thought." Jarh strutted out of the hall, casually tossing his Stone of Breath aside. Jarh was seething, but it would never show. Who had told him about the Test of Strength? Jarh took a calming walk, ultimately ending with the royal gardens, the solitude and aromas helped him think. He could easily find out who told him about the Test of Strength. That shaper, Tune, always seemed to hang around him, he was most likely the one who would witness for him. Jarh resolved himself. He would prevent Tune testifying for Spike. But that was secondary. If he managed to knock Spike out of the tests it would not be needed, Spike couldn't accuse him of anything then. Only the king or another warrior can level charges at a warrior.

Spike ran the scene a hundred times over in his head. How could he have not thought that Jarh would ask for a witness? How could he have thought that Jarh's guilt could be proven on gut feeling and rumour? His insides roiled in his foolishness. Core was waiting for him. Not a good sign.

"What you did was very stupid." Core greatly emphasised the last word. What they said was true, news travelled faster than legs in Dun.

"Really?" Spike spat sarcastic venom at Core.

"There's no need to be like that. You should have known better than to accuse him."

"Apparently not." Core sighed. Dealing with Spike could be difficult.

"Are you listening Spike?" Spike made a small, non-committal noise. "Spike!"

"What?" Spike was unenthusiastic.

"You said you wanted to know about Grind and I. Right?"

"Yeah?" Spike wasn't sure where this was going.

Core launched into the story. Core hoped Spike would understand. "vor Vask is not the name I was born with." He raised his claw, indicating for silence. Spike's jaw shut audibly. "I was born Core vor Khin. Let me finish. Yes. That is Khin vor Boj, the son of the current king. I was betrothed to a beautiful dragoness, I loved her. She is now Grind vor Nos." Core's breath shuddered, old wounds bled again. "But she was in love with a shaper. When she refused to marry me she was disowned. I had just made sergeant. Not a glamorous position but a stepping stone to greater things. I did my best to support Grind, to give her an avenue back if she would ever want to take it." Core swallowed painfully. "My father found out about it quickly enough. When I refused to denounce Grind publicly, when I refused to sever all connections with her, I was disowned as well." Core took a deep breath, as if an unseen burden had been finally lifted. "And my stepping stone became a lifetime position."

"But how-?" Core raised his claw again for silence. He let it linger for a while.

"Lieutenant Vask vor Lope adopted me as his own. It wasn't much, but it gave me a place to stay, and he was glad his name would live on." Core looked about the room, pain long since past etched lines into his face.

"I'm sorry." Spike couldn't meet Core's eyes. Core smiled, not happy, but relieved.

"Let's get some sleep."


	7. The Tests Part 4

Nothing like a shared secret brings dragons together. Most of Spike's time was consumed training with Core, who offered only a few days after he had shared his only true secret with him. A note, shrill and high enough to turn the greatest soprano green with envy sliced through the silence.

"The cold will force any air you take in out. Your best bet is to exhale before you enter, then take a breath once you break the surface for the first time. Or you could just harden up." This was the third time Core had repeated himself. Spike's short, ragged breaths were his only answer. The sopping, cold dragon shivered with every passing breeze.

Winter was approaching quickly, only the pines held onto their needles. The rest had shed their garments long ago, revealing their barren bones and bark. "Can we go back to the rune exercises?" Spike pleaded.

"No. I was just testing to see if you had received that knowledge from the Iron Father. You have. You'll know any runes or words you need when you need them. Get back in the water. You're wasting time." Spike hated these exercises. There was no way he could use the mastery, body or mind, to help him. Any thought or attempt to change his consciousness shattered the second the freezing water touched his scales. The cold forced air from him, his wings allowed for easier floating, or they should, mostly they floundered at his sides, the webbing filling with water and dragging him beneath the surface.

Core looked expectant. Spike slid into the pond. An icy wind blew cut the cold into his bones. He shook uncontrollably. "Don't you think about getting out!" Core wasn't normally an impatient dragon, but the test would commence in a few days. Spike slipped back into the chill water, hoping that he could shrink into the background.

"Dive." Any softness in Core's voice was crushed under impatient tones. Spike breathed as deeply as he could before passing below the surface of the water. It was far worse once completely submerged. The water sapped his heat and strength, leaving him a cold, soft mess of a dragon. His tail, catching the water in the paddle of the blade, pushed him onward. It had taken a few hours of practice to master the use of his tail, Core said that his wings would be excellent if he could just learn to control them. No that was not how you beat your wings underwater, no, that's not it either. Spike eventually just folded his wings into his sides and used his claws and tail, like when he was small.

"Again." Was the first thing Spike heard after the sound of his own breathing and beating heart had quietened.

"Why?" It sounded more like whining than a question, even to Spike.

"Because you haven't put your wings into it."

"I mean why am I learning to swim? I'm already decent enough." Core was strangely silent. His stare seemed to push Spike back into the water. Spike's face would've burned in embarrassment, but the cold and wet forced him to settle for becoming slightly less colourless. "I just can't do it!" Spike's anger at his failing had no target, and manifested with a general dislike of small ants, trees, and anything else he happened to lay his eyes on.

"Get back in the water. And do this." Core demonstrated the general movement he expected of Spike. Spike slunk back into the still, near frozen pool. He dove down again. It came easily, so easily Spike was flabbergasted. It was all a matter of treated the water as it were air. It flowed the same way, pushed the same way, but required far more force to move through. His wings were unused and cold, stiff. Spike could almost feel them cracking like an old handkerchief as he levied them through the water.

Spike spotted an odd shadow in the depths. The pool was illuminated by water-filtered light, distorting distance, shadows dancing from ripples and imperfections on the surface. But this shadow was deep and black. Curiosity pulled Spike closer, but it didn't change or move. Disappointed, Spike used his wings to power away from the dark patch and the sense of foreboding that accompanied it.

Spike thought he broke the water in a distinctly more triumphant way this time. He beamed at Core, the spark of enthusiasm quickly smothered by Core's words. "Again."

Spike sullenly dove again, eager to shelter his enthusiasm from the gale of Core's indifference. He sliced through the water, an easy task now his wings contributed. This allowed his claws to dangle limply at his sides, his tails and wings far more efficient users of the energy and breath he sought to conserve. Spike idly snapped at one of the larger fish who spent the entirety of their lives in the small lake. It darted out between his teeth, startling in it's agility and grace. Spike felt like an ugly balloon, flailing about in the water that was this one's home.

The need for air bit at Spike's throat and chest. The small droplets of water caught the light, shining like gems. Fun began to become a part of it. Spike was almost sad when Core told him to pack up. That they should get back before it was dark and the winds picked up. The griffons began squawking for their young, parents and mates to return to the nests. Their roosts were far to the south, but their calls carried to their loved ones, soaring above the hunting grounds that overlapped dangerously with dragon territory. It wasn't that dragons actively hunted griffons, but an average dragon saw a griffon the same way a pony sees a blade of grass. Something that doesn't seem particularly intelligent, lives a very short time and makes a tasty snack, so why not snuff out their lives a few days early?

Spike banished the dark thoughts from his mind. His love of Equestria making the 'average dragon' an abomination. A sharp feeling rose when he considered if Core thought that way. Spike hoped he didn't. It tainted the rest of the day, leaving muddy thought-tracks through his mind. It was difficult to trace the origin of the thoughts, or his awareness of the 'average dragon', considering he had only lived in the dragon kingdom for less than a year. His inquisitiveness faded, the Iron Father soothing his cares. It was trying to prevent him inquiring about what it had done to his mind in the dream. He suddenly pushed against the Iron Father, revolted at it's intrusion, desperately disentangling it's threads from himself.

Spike was deeply shaken, the Iron Father had withdrawn. He felt shelled. It was difficult to separate himself from the soft mush of the Iron Father. It was always there, comforting, helpful. Spike didn't think it meant him any harm, or at least that's what he hoped, but the idea that his mind was something that it could access as it pleased was unsettling.

His flight suddenly faltered. "Watch it!" Core reprimanded him.

"Sorry." Spike's apology was distant, an afterthought.

"Are you ok?" Concern saturated the question.

"Yeah. I'm fine." The lie was hollow, neither believed it.

Core knew better than to approach Spike. Whatever he was experiencing, he need to resolve on his own. Spike seemed to be walking through a haze. Separation had taken its toll. Spike disregarded the diamonds Core gulped wholesale, his appetite spent without eating. He had to review the runes tomorrow, then the test. Surprisingly Spike wasn't nervous, or worried, but perhaps he was just too tired right now. All he wanted to do was sleep.

Waking up was unpleasantly easy. His eyes snapped open. He grasped at what he was and forced what he now knew as the Iron Father away. Keeping himself totally separate was difficult. He teetered on a precipice, unable to step back, overbalancing would lead to drowning in the Iron Father's thoughts. Spike didn't know if he could keep himself intact if he fell. He would lose something, he may wake up and think Tune an enemy, be unable to recall who Core was, lose his time in Ponyville. A shudder ran through him. The price was too high, he could never submerge himself in the Iron Father as he did before. Spike may have lost something already, he doubted he would ever know what it was.

Spike's footsteps were unnaturally heavy and loud, drawing glances and perplexed stares as he made his way to the library. The thousands upon thousands of scrolls, stuffed into their catalogued crevices peered out at him. He walked to some of the more used sections, thankful none of the dragons reading felt the need to look up from their work. Some wrinkled their noses at the sound of his footfalls, but pretended it didn't bother them.

Spike had to push away a larger dragon who thought the scroll he was looking for was too important to trust the librarians to help find. His angry looks washed over Spike's tired face. Spike grabbed one of the scrolls detailing basic runes and magic. Equestrian magic was founded in the will of the practitioner manifesting as a physical effect. It was one of the reasons that, for ponies, unpractised or difficult magic is physically tiring. Dragon magic was ingrained into the old languages of dragons. An old draconic word, written or spoken, gives dominance over what that subject. Subsequent words increase the complexity. For example, the old draconic word for 'self' can be combined with the word for 'protection' in order to give the speaker small general protection from other's magic. But still magic had some basic foundation in will, the strongest magic users generally being the most disciplined dragons.

Spike unfurled the scroll slowly, reading an old word unprepared could have disastrous results. There were some basic protection spells that every dragon knew, some small utility spells, such as a more basic version of the large-scale tunnel shaping spells, and some more advanced protection spells Spike already knew. He disregarded the familiar and advanced unfamiliar spells. Spike wasn't a talented mage, the pursuit of mastery being his chief concern, and reading any spell at any time was a dangerous endeavour. Except the basic protection spells, it was difficult to mess those up.

Spike rolled the scroll back into it's casing, exhausted. He barely made it back to Core's chamber. He let the ground carry his weight as his eyes closed. Sleep did not come easily.

The constant low drone of light that emitted from the ceiling burned into Spike's eyes. His vision blurred as he adjusted. He propped himself up awkwardly, the flower rested in it's usual place. It's potency had increased with age, Spike was able to detect the smell from his place on the ground. He couldn't spare the unusually hardy plant a thought though. His movements were quick and clumsy as he made his way to the entrance.

"Glad you could join us." Ger berated. Spike hoped to shuffle into line quietly. An elbow to his ribs told him they had been waiting longer than he had expected. Officially they were supposed to remove any candidates who arrived late, but few got this far on the warrior path and they were far more accommodating. Spike took his place at one of the edges of the group, unhappily obvious today. The group of less than one hundred followed Captain Ger once more.

The path they followed was familiar, although only to Spike. Stepping shy of a particular knobbly root that made his peers hiss in pain, the forest opened into a clearing. The dread pool, still, freezing water stared at Spike, taunting him. He glared at the inert liquid, fortunately the other potentials were too busy shooting it confused looks to notice.

Jarh surveyed the pool. His chest tightened. Desperate measures had to be taken. He had always distrusted powerful magic, it was something that no one could handle safely. It was generally a good idea to keep massive power separate from those who would be willing to use it for selfish reasons. How could no one see what would happen if the motherless gained the power and status of a warrior? Unfortunately he had been forced into this position, it was the only way he could intervene, and he could never forgive a lost opportunity.

Ger's instructions were simple. They were going, one by one, to pass through the underwater tunnel near the bottom, then they could come out the other side. If they hadn't died or gone back, they would pass. Pain flashed through Spike's back. He whipped around. Nothing. "Is something wrong?" Ger's concern was unspecific and superficial. It was more concern for any trouble he might expect Spike would cause than any fondness he had for Spike.

"Nothing." With the word, both Core and Spike dismissed it.

"Only one try. Once you're down, come back up the other side, or fail." It was the same basic message Spike had received many times before. Spike's stomach grumbled it's emptiness. He hoped none of them could hear it. No one moved. Spike breathed a sigh of relief. His current standing with them wasn't particularly high. He had accused possibly the highest-ranking warrior-potential of attempted murder. He had woken up late, something one of the larger females seemed to greatly frown upon. She had never missed an opportunity to give him foul looks since the morning. He was already considered lazy and seditious, it would be best not to imply he couldn't even take care of himself properly.

"Jarh, you're up." Jarh seemed peeved at the casual nature Ger addressed him. None of it showed on his face, but his walk was unyielding.

It was simple for Jarh. There was no real danger for him. His father had helped ensure that. He hoped they would do as he told them regarding Spike. Jarh rubbed the small rune, etched with a small blade into his scales. He was careful not to rub it off, but was relieved that it would soon no longer be a part of him. His main concern was for their next task. The markings were already in place. Fortunately family friends were more commonplace on the warrior path now. So many fell simply because they weren't lucky enough to be born into a noble family, one able to help those it cares about on the test. It was a harsh truth, a sad truth.

Jarh shook his head slightly. He wished Spike didn't have to be motherless, he most certainly didn't like Spike, but admired his tenacity. It was a pity that very tenacity was what made him so dangerous. He was a splinter, well buried in flesh. Removing him would be difficult, and painful, but everyone would be better off for it. Bloodline pollution must be avoided.

Jarh was swallowed by the water. Spike secretly hoped he would never resurface. No bubbles reached the surface, indicating he had found and entered the tunnel.

More followed, each after a period of time Ger calculated with varying accuracy. Spike was soon the only dragon still waiting. Worry gnawed at him, last was always the worst placement. Others had failed quickly, bobbing to the surface because they simply couldn't hold their breath long enough. He rubbed the once painful, now slightly itchy scales on his back. Spike felt an odd groove. It was faint, so faint it was difficult to determine the shape it made. "Spike!" Ger shouted. There was no more time for thought. Taking a hasty breath, eager to finish the test, Spike dove into the icy water.

The familiar chill seeped into his scales and sucked the warmth from his bones. His muscles already complaining, he pushed himself down, down toward the black patch. From the small blob first encountered it grew into a gaping maw. The darkness inside suffocatingly total. Spike surged into the darkness, the way forward dark, the way back failure.

"Jarh" a breathless dragoness called him. He moved his head in acknowledgement, a practised manoeuvre, designed to inform the speaker that he was listening and subtly remind them of their respective status. "Spike has started the test."

"Good." Jarh paused for a moment. "What are you waiting for?" The dragoness hurried off. No smile came to Jarh's face. In a few moments it would be done.

The tunnel expanded after a few metres. His wings stretched out, easily accommodated. He couldn't use them for swimming, the tunnel may constrict later, and in the darkness Spike wouldn't know until his wings laid broken by his sides, but they were useful for feeling his way around the tunnel. He touched something with his claws, stuck to the roof of the tunnel. It moved easily through the water at his touch, and it was big. It was slightly yielding and Spike had to press a little to move it aside.

Spike pulled his hand away as if it had been burned. He knew what it was. This wasn't the Test of Courage, where the danger was not meant to be real. Spike was about to swim on when he felt a tightness in his chest. Bubbles escaped from his nostrils. He felt around his chest, feeling for anything entangling him. Nothing, only water between his claws. More bubbles issued from his nose and mouth. If nothing physical was causing this, there was only one explanation.

Spike bit deep into his thumb-claw. The water warmed with his blood. His chest the canvas, his blood the paint, he made the sign of protection from magic. The tightening in his chest eased, the bubbles ended. But his lungs were empty, void. They burned for air, an agony that spread throughout Spike's throat and muddied his thoughts with panic.

Spike tried to make progress, but ended up thrashing about in place. Spike felt it, with the tip of his wing, it was less than an inch deep, but it was there. Dryness.

Spire hurried over to the small dry patch. Pressing his lips to the trapped bubble, he devoured the air contained. Spike knew he hadn't made this bubble. He silently thanked the dragon. Spike slipped along the tunnel. The bubble had been large, but it wasn't enough to get him out of the tunnel, and Spike didn't want to take any risks at this point. His progress was painfully slow. He moved like a snail along the ceiling, feeling for any patches of dryness, not matter how small, and draining the air inside.

Spike moved along the dark tunnel, but the blackness was no longer so suffocating. Spike's lungs were burning, there had been no dryness for a long time and his body was beginning to alert him to that fact. He pushed forward, hoping for more ahead. Spike felt the ceiling, he knew there would be no more bubbles of precious air. The cave now slanted slightly upward, any bubbles would roll along and exit the tunnel. Spike knew better than to hope he would find any imperfections in the roof large enough to trap the rolling bubbles.

Spike kicked off from the ceiling. He powered forward, feeling the water seethe around his beating wings. They could crack and break in this dark tunnel for all he cared. Spike would not drown. His tail beat furiously, he had to keep tight control, if he gave in to instinct he would flail about and drown. The tunnel gradually grew brighter and brighter, as the edges of Spike's vision began to blur and fade. A shaft of light filtered into the tunnel. Pain and the craving of air was all Spike could think about. He burst into light, free from the terrible darkness.

Spike saw it, a few metres above him. The surface, with its open skies and cool air. It had been far too long since he had a good breath in him. He flicked his tail, nothing. All his strength had faded, cold and oxygen-starvation had left without the energy to continue. He was smothered by his own impotence as he sank lower into the pond, the cave eager for another life. The Iron Father stretched out toward his mind, he batted the tendril away. He craved the reassurance, but didn't want to give in.

No. It wouldn't end this way. He hadn't defeated an Ursa just to drown at the bottom of a pond. He wouldn't be a corpse for someone to fish out. He wouldn't die. He wouldn't let himself. A strong beat of his wings set the water swirling around him. Every second brought the surface closer.

"He's been down too long." Ger put a check next to Spike's name. The failures of the Test of Endurance.

Jarh sighed in relief. It was dirty business, but it was finally over. He could get back to his life free from worry or, at least, this one.

Spike didn't explode from the surface in a dramatic show. No. He broke the surface, only had time to take a single, beautiful breath, and the weight of his exhaustion dragged him back down. The second attempt he considered far for successful.

He floated lazily on his back, occasionally his tail would twitch, sending him drifting toward the shore. Ger had an interested expression. "Huh." was all Spike heard him say, he set about scribbling. Jarh looked unhappy. It was a good look. Spike would've been angry, if he had the strength for it. Thoughts of food shoved their way in, elbowing their way to the forefront.

"I think we'll be carrying him back." Ger's tone indicated that 'we' did not include himself. Spike was too tired to be anything other than a limp burden to the dragons that grudgingly bore him from the test. Spike knew they were probably friends of Jarh, or at least nobles, they seemed particularly snobbish. If Ger wasn't walking with them they probably would've thrown him to the ground. Spike occasionally coughed violently, just glad to have air a plentiful commodity.

He was placed onto a raised slab, a scholar looked over him, clucking his tongue and occasionally jabbing him painfully in his chest. Spike was too tired to yelp, all that escaped his lips was an embarrassing whimper. "Rest up a bit, see how you feel in the morning. I can't feel anything wrong. Your coughs aren't wet, so that's a good sign. Probably just exhaustion." Spike responded with a grunt, he hoped it sounded thankful.

Lashed to the bed with fatigue, Spike fell into pleasant unconsciousness.


	8. The Final Test

_A/N: Sorry for the incredibly, incredibly slow update. The reasons are twofold: The first is a nice reason. I'm getting more ideas and I am working on them. The second is the initial draft of the second part of The Story of Spike, the more I wrote, the more I became disenfranchised. Eventually the characters felt hollow, the plot contrived, and the twists more shallow than my friend Rob. You deserve better than that. I will write better than that. Until I get a better idea for the continuation of the story I will be working on other projects. _

Spike's muscles weren't terribly painful. Most of his fatigue had come from the suffocation, not from exertion. But he was still stiff. Tune had been considerate enough to grab the sturdy flower and place it on his slab during his rest. He caressed the trophy. The strong smell helped keep him awake. The stink was beginning to become foul as the near-immortal plant began to rot.

He tucked the flower into the crook of a wing. The walk to Core's was uneventful. The Test of Endurance was far less high-profile than the Test of Strength, although Spike felt about the same afterwards.

Tune materialized behind Spike.

"Gaah!" Spike jumped a bit. "Would you stop doing that!"

"Sorry?" Tune looked confused, not too sure what he should stop doing. "I see your feeling better."

"Yeah, much." He stretched his aches again, they flared in response. "I need to get a good fly in. It's been way too long." Time seemed to stretch in between flights, the sheer freedom he felt in the sky couldn't compare with the drudgery of the ground. He had gone a whole month without a flight that didn't have a destination. Destinations ruined flying.

Tune was politely silent as they slipped through the small side-tunnels on their way outside. His friend radiated geniality and concern. Spike passed him the flower, Tune tucked it into one of the various crooks in his scales, created by exposure to the copious amounts of sulphur present in the forming tunnels.

Spike lifted his wings high, he preferred to simply fall into flight, but he needed to stretch out everything, and one of the toughest exercises is takeoff. He felt his wings touch at the apex of their initial beat. He pulled them down quickly. The sudden vacuum above him helped suck him into the air. He lifted his wings, again to their apex. It was tempting to make small, sudden beats, attempting not to fall, but that was something for amateurs and children, and instinct wasn't the best teacher.

Again a vacuum helped his wings raise him into the air. He drifted easily over the precipice. The large amount of space between himself and the ground might have frightened a pony unfortunate enough to be perched on his back, and stupid enough to look directly down, but it reassured Spike. It was time, time to correct his flight in case anything went wrong. He felt the weakness in his wings' membrane, he had been so devoted to the Test of Endurance. But he shook the thoughts free, those times were over, and the sky lay ahead.

Small creatures scurried around the ground below him, hurrying back into their little pockets of darkness at his passing. The wind slid over his scales, aero-dynamism embodied. He didn't try to do anything amazing this flight, it was just to get back into it after the month's abstinence and the colds weakening of the membrane.

He drifted over the Iron Father's resting place. A great pulse moved out from it. It buffeted Spike. Not physically, it couldn't do that, but it jumbled his thoughts. His ears rang painfully, a sweeping wave of nausea stayed too long. He tumbled around in the sky, all the while moving frighteningly quickly toward the ground.

His wings exploded open, desperate to halt his increasingly quick descent. Not soon enough, the wind ripped through the tiny imperfections in the thin membrane, opening startlingly large holes. The pain was immeasurable. The membrane nerves, tiny, sensitive things meant to warn of changes in wind patterns and speeds suddenly burst into fire. He spasmed wildly, tumbling through the canopy to the forest floor.

The branches snapped painfully as he passed through the trees. He tried to look at the ground, tried to steady himself, mistake. A long, spindly branch plunged into his eye. Fire erupted through his skull, his eyes shut automatically, he didn't want to force them open.

A deep thud and another burst of pain indicated his plunge had ended. The foul mud underneath his claws slipped away easily, the pain in his side making it difficult to right himself. He fell again, the stink of animal and dead plant assaulted him, adding oil to the fire in his skull.

The felt the Iron Father, reaching for him, promising an end to the pain. He tried to ignore it, but he was in such pain, and it would be so easy. The pain in his wings redoubled, relief was a single call away. He could feel its desire to reconnect.

His first step sent another jolt of pain through him as his disgustingly porous wings jostled. He felt the temptation to reach out, take the pain away, but he bit back the fetid weakness. The Iron Father had caused the pulse, it had meant for this to happen. Spike opened his right eye, the left was destroyed. He dared not move the twig, for fear of blacking out. He trudged along as best he could, trying and failing to ignore the pain.

The slow breeze sent shudders of pain, it passed through the holes, shaking the loose flaps of flesh, it wiggled the twig. Insects and muck slithered into the cuts, into the holes. Spike felt the harsh ash begin to fall. Good. It meant he wasn't too far away from an infirmary bed. He stuck his tongue out in disgust. When the thought of an infirmary bed is comforting, you're in trouble.

He accidentally breathed in a little of the ash, which now fell in a permanent haze. He never had a more painful sneeze. The stick was pushed just slightly out of the eye. The horrible wave of pain forced bile out his throat. Spitting the rotten taste from his mouth, the stick jiggled. Another wave of pain. It was somewhat dislodged, not enough to fall, but just enough to wiggle about.

Spike felt a tendril of succor from the Iron Father. He breathed it in deeply, just enough. He found the thread, the main connection between him and the Iron Father. It snapped beneath his will.

And the Iron Father was gone. He couldn't even feel its presence in the back of his mind. It was simply not there. It was strange, like removing a limb, he constantly expected to feel it somewhere, but it wasn't, it simply wasn't.

His claws bit into the side of the mountain, the stinging ash drifted into his hole of an eye. He shook it loose, the pain was strong, but had lost its edge. Spike hauled his body up the mountain. The comforting height now a painful task.

His muscles strained, their previous aches forgotten. He desperately sucked at the air, he just couldn't get enough into his lungs. The flopped out onto the platform. The climb had pushed the blood around. His wings wept, leaving a small pool beneath him.

There were hurried screams and shouts. A small dragoness tried to prop up his damaged head. Some more annoying dragons nuzzled him, trying to get him to stir. The ash and dirt ground into the wounds.

Core's form burst from the entrance, accompanied by Tune and a few of the scribes working in the infirmary. They gently lifted him onto their backs, kindly moving in a way to avoid jostling they made their way to the infirmary.

They laid him out on one of the slabs, on his side. They stretched his wings until they nearly snapped. Spike hissed in pain, his breathing strong and desperate. Too many doctors huddled around him for it to be comforting. There was frantic yelling, also not a good sign. Long claws were sterilised and sharpened.

There was no anaesthetic, no warrior or warrior-potential received any, some old law about warriors being beyond normal dragons, another of the reasons of the distinct separation between warriors and 'mortal' dragons. They cut the already-infected flesh away, widening holes already too large. They discarded the membrane away, the skin-like webbing dripped with his dark blood. He was sick. He felt himself pale, his clawtips were cold. Odd, the infirmary was one of the hottest caverns in the entire city.

He began to feel faint, he didn't fight it, he wanted out. Maybe severing connection with the Iron Father wasn't the best idea. He didn't get any respite. His head was lifted from the slab, now strangely slick. It was odd, he saw a doctor nearly press his lips to his ruined eye.

His scream sent the whole room quaking. He couldn't prevent himself, his claws extended, he swung furiously at the dragon that caused him such pain. He tore the doctor's chest open. He hoped he didn't get too deep. There wasn't much blood on the doctor and he seemed to be getting up without too much trouble. Spike didn't want to hurt him, and he didn't want to blame his condition for what he did, but it was done, and only in hindsight could he see the need to sterilise the wound without cutting out his face.

They wrapped rock around nearly the whole of his torso, he could barely breathe. His wings were bound, untouched by fire for fear the holes wouldn't heal. Rock was also plastered over his ruined eye, he could live without his eye, but the thought of losing flight. He shook in his prison of convalescence.

He felt more than heard the slump of a dragon sitting at his slab. He turned to face Core, who sat down at his slabside.

"The doctors say you were badly injured, almost didn't make it. What happened?"

Spike hesitated. Would Core even believe him about his once-special connection to the Iron Father? Would he believe that it was a sinister thing that needed obedience?

"I don't want to talk about it..."

Core's teeth suddenly snapped together, grinding against each other. "Was it Jarh?"

"No! No!" Spike tried to lift himself up, he strained against his bindings. A flash of pain sent him back to the slab, a new bruise forming on the back of his head.

"Ok. I won't press it." Core seemed to calm down, at least a little. "They say you might not fly again."

There it was. The dark truth. The one he didn't want to face. Not ever. Spike lay there, stunned. He managed to nod mutely. Tears stung in his ruined eye. He turned away from Core.

"Spike. Spike!" He turned back, his eye wet, the ruined hole pained from the salt. "Spike, I know how much flying means to you."

No you don't, Spike thought, but he knew better than to spit bile at Core.

"But there's something I want to tell you. You can't let this beat you. Inside everyone is a centre. This is a centre of everything that you cannot change about you. This is who you are. It is something that will never change, your body changes, even personality changes depending on where you live, but the centre stays the same, all the time. It is the most important thing to you. Find that centre."

Spike did nothing. He groped in the dark, unable to find anything. The absence of the Iron Father left him...drained.

"The centre doesn't change. The world has to conform to it! Did you find it?" His voice was steel. Spike shook his head. Core sighed, "I hope you find it someday." He left Spike, alone, empty.

Jarh trailed through the Red-Tipped Leopards, he batted away some of the twigs. The flowers were beautiful, but the plant part was a pain, too many thorns, too much poison. He had heard about Spike's "incident", half of Dun knew, the doctors had been very willing to talk about it. He could turn it to his advantage very easily. Even if Spike had absurd healing ability, he would naturally be weak by the time the Test of Pain came around. Yes. This could be exploited.

Spike could barely feel his legs, let alone attain the "Mastery of the Body" he had boasted not even four days ago. He hadn't realised what a large part of him the Iron Father was, even inert.

Spike shook his head. He might not have the 'centre' that Core talked about. But who cared? He didn't have the support of the Iron Father, and he didn't have the magical power that Core talked about, but that didn't matter. He could only focus on what he could do, and to heal, he needed to rest. Spike settled as best he could on the rock.

He was nearly healed when the Test of Pain came around. The casts over his chest, wings and eye were broken. He examined the shrinking holes in his flight membrane, he could no longer see through his left, but he hadn't expected to, his ribs were feeling better. He took an appreciative breath. It was time for the test.

He flexed his wings, the holes stretched painfully, but didn't tear. The dragons regarded him with varying degrees of fear as he walked to the testing chamber. He wouldn't be arriving with the other Potentials, but they would meet up outside the test chamber. He could imagine their faces as Ger told them what the Test of Pain actually was, if they hadn't guessed it already. Fortunately Tune wasn't tight-lipped about what he learned about the tests.

He joined the assembly of potentials, not even bothering to try and integrate. Why aggravate his injuries with their jostling?

"...and I don't want to hear any screams or anything! Or you fail!" Ger was in his usual bad mood. He lifted a scroll in front of him, he paused for a second, names ticking over in his brain. "Hmmm." He seemed to consider something for a moment. "Ok it looks like Spike vor Nos was meant to go first, but Aren talked to me earlier. Sorry to hear about your 'issue' Aren." There was no note of concern, only annoyance. "Aren, get in there." He gestured to a room, it was one of the only room Spike had seen that had a door. A great metal block that swung aside when you pushed it hard enough.

"Wait!" Jarh called out.

"What is it?" Ger was obviously impatient.

Jarh's stomach knotted in worry. What would he say? If he said anything his father would have no choice but to disown him. His eyes spiralled in fear. If he did nothing, Aren would...He bit down on his guilt and fear. He wouldn't let himself be disowned. He would remove the cancer called "Spike", it was unfortunate that Aren would have to pay a deep price, but his sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. The ground Red-Tipped Leopard would do its work painlessly. It was a hollow reassurance.

"Nothing..." he whimpered.

"All right. Aren step through."

There was no noise through the metal door. A blood-spattered drake eventually opened it.

"Captain Ger, I think you need to see this." Ger followed the dragon through the door. The Captain emerged a few minutes later.

"Aren has died." The mass of students surged forward, desperate to look, to see the body. They crushed Spike forward, Ger shouted at them to stay back, but the formless mass of the mob pushed Spike into the room.

The stench of blood left Spike shaken. The ground was wet and sticky beneath his claws. Aren's limp body was stretched out on the ground, dribbles added to the growing pool. He clutched his foreclaws to his face, trying to keep the stink from his nostrils with his fingers. He could taste the copper haze, he coughed violently, trying to remove the offending air. But under all the blood Spike could smell something else, it came from a small pot resting on a pedestal, he couldn't identify it, it was smothered in a thick layer of blood-smell. He had no time to investigate before a grip on the back of his neck yanked him through the door. He was happy to be away from the metal stink.

Ger was furious. He sent them away for the day, the test would be rescheduled tomorrow. They had to remove and "tree" the body.

Soon enough they were all gathered together in the same place. There were less dragons than yesterday, some of the nobles' sons and daughters must have pulled out of the Path after Aren died. Ger didn't bother with any speeches or rants, he stood in angry silence, not forgiving them for their disobedience yesterday. "Spike." His voice held the generalised contempt he felt for the group.

The iron door swung aside, admitting him entrance to the room where death had visited yesterday. Three dragons, two warriors and a doctor-scribe, paid him no attention as they prepared the room. Glass rods were placed on rock shelves. A menacing saw rested on the corner, glinting light from its diamond blade. A pedestal held a small pot. Spike took a deep sniff, the strange smell was gone. Next to the pedestal was metal clamps, suspiciously sized. Spike compared the width of his wrists to the allowance of the bindings, he didn't like the results.

The doctor-scribe sidled up to him. "Please place your foreclaws into those please." He indicated the bindings. "Just to reiterate," he said as he tightened the manacles, "if you should show any kind of pain we will remove you from the room, and you will fail the test. This," he held forth a glass rod, "goes in your mouth, if it cracks, you fail, do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good." He placed the glass rod into Spike's mouth, where it fell to rest between two teeth. "This salve will help stop the bleeding." He held up the granite pot. "Let's begin."

The two warriors suddenly roused, taking the diamond saw from the corner. They placed it just above his head, resting on one of the large spines that ran down his back and into his tail.

Blinding pain laced through his whole body, rippling into his lungs, tainting his breath. The saw bit deeper, the pain came again. His whole body trembled horribly. The doctor made a small tutting sound. Spike quelled his legs, his claws dug into the ground, helping to prevent any further trembling.

Spike felt warm wetness trickle down his back, staining the scales. The saw stopped for a moment. Something cold was applied to the wound, there was a slight crack as the doctor broke the thread holding the spine to his skin. Spike felt a sense of loss as it hit the ground, he always liked his spines. The the salve clearly wasn't designed with the comfort of the dragon in mind. The salve set his back aflame, he gripped his own hands tightly, claws digging painfully into his own scales.

The saw came again, and again. His eye misted with tears, but he forced them down. He tried to steady his breathing, but it was difficult, every cut sent him gasping for the blood-tinted air. The glass rod shook dangerously, and it took a great deal of effort to keep his jaw loose. Still it clinked against his serrated teeth, chipping slightly.

The doctor called a hush. He took the rod out of Spike's mouth. Spike was grateful for the respite. He let his legs sag slightly, digging into the ground prevented them shaking, but it burned through his muscle faster than he expected. The doctor made his annoying tutting as he inspected the glass, turning it over and over in his grip. Spike tensed, he knew if the doctor's claws scarred the surface he would probably blame it on Spike. No one would dispute him, no warrior would stand on the side of one so universally vilified.

The tutting continued too long. He saw the chip. His lips curled into a sneer. He glanced to the warriors, lounging on the floor with a bloody saw. They were too engaged in conversation to notice them, something about a clan whose patriarch had been murdered. The doctor dropped the glass to the ground. A quick stomp and claw grinding, and it was dust mixed with earth, unnoticeable. He plucked an intact one from the holders and placed it into Spike's mouth before he could respond.

"I had to think of some way to thank you. My colleague was in the infirmary for a week, he didn't get the chance to present his findings to the board." He snickered evilly. "Guess who got primary credit?" He seemed to have difficulty keeping his laughs down.

The friendliness melted away. "Resume!" The saw again took its place. Its squealing bite sending him reeling.

Spike stumbled out of the room, his back covered in the healing slime. He drunkenly meandered into the group, trying to make his way to the infirmary. He tripped over his ankle, slamming into the sand. His eye rolled in his skull. No one helped him up, but a few wore horrified expressions, knowing that this would be them soon. Jarh looked on him with disdain. Spike smiled, knowing that Jarh would understand tomorrow.

Jarh paced around the gardens. He had hoped the Motherless might fail the test, make it easier on everyone. But he stubbornly refused. There was only one thing for it

The infirmary wasn't glad to accept him back, he had occupied a slab for a month now, but he was a warrior, and couldn't be asked to leave. Tune visited a few times, along with Core.

"Hey Spike." Tune's voice quavered, his eyes threatened tears.

"What's wrong?" Spike tried to sit up, it didn't work.

"My dad was working on a tunnel yesterday...yesterday..." He sniffed loudly. Spike knew better than to talk. "He...He..." Tune took a deep breath. "The tunnel collapsed."

Spike sat bolt upright, the pain and restrictions of the cast forgotten. The rock cracked. He launched into questions.

"Is he ok? Was anyone hurt?"

Tune racked with sobs. Spike placed his claw on Tune's shoulder. Tune grasped at the sympathy, desperate. The tears left streaks through his stained scales.

"Sorry to disturb your rest Spike."

"Don't worry about it." Spike's words seemed superficial reassurance. Tune left, his frame shaking.

The scribe in the corner seemed a little too interested in his own hands.

"You don't have to pretend not to have heard." Spike called.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

Spike sighed in response. The doctor proceeded to stretch his wings out to their full length. Spike toyed with his signature flower, now obviously rotting, its stench was nearly overpowering.

"You're recovering surprisingly well, the membrane is repaired, but I'd give it a few days before you fly again."

"Thanks."

"It's good you've got friends that take care of each other."

Spike sat bolt upright, widening the cracks in the cast. He didn't have friends, plural. "Who was this other friend?" His tone demanded an immediate answer.

"Oh he was a blue one, looked important, held himself real high, chest puff was a dead giveaway, it's nice to have important friends."

Spike didn't want think what Jarh wanted with Tune. He ripped the casts off his wings and torso. The doctor took a step back, no one interfered with warrior business.

"Your spines haven't healed completely, just so you know." The doctor was apathetic, no one liked to feel powerless, but he was, and by law no less.

Spike rushed out of the infirmary, he could feel the scabs on his back and neck crack and weep from the furious movement. He knew exactly where Tune would go.

Jarh didn't like to think of it as stalking, but he had to wait for a good time. If he had one witness, someone who was close to Spike, testify that he altered the test to kill Aren, he could have the Motherless prosecuted by the King's Court. Only a warrior can level charges at another warrior, but anyone can witness. No one would dispute the claim, everyone had heard what he'd done to the doctor, everyone knew his sedition. Everyone had their price, and he could pay any promise he made, he just had to find the right incentive.

Spike's muscles rippled as he bashed aside dragons twice his size, fuelled more by will than any physical ability. He had to get to Tune before anything happened.

He slowed down as he approached the Silent Room, from his proximity, only muffles could be heard. Someone was talking loudly. He peeked into the room, the edge of surprise could prove the difference if it came to blows.

Jarh was talking loudly to Tune, who cowered in a corner, wearing a look of genuine fear. He clutched something in his hands. Something green. Tune hunched forward aggressively, his claws all too clear in the bright light.

Spike swelled with rage. How dare he come here come to this place! How dare he frighten his friend, and after his father's death no less! How dare he! His walk was stiff and rigid as he made his way to Jarh.

Jarh turned around. "Ah." He sneered. "You're here. I was just talking with your little friend Tu-"

Jarh was cut off by a hard clawblow to the side of his face. Blood dribbled lazily from the cuts.

"You- You dare-"

Another blow sent him spinning. Spike advanced on Jarh, who tried to pick himself up. A small voice with Spike begged him to stop, tried to resist his rage, but butterflies can't stand the hurricane for long.

Spike dug his claws into the tops of Jarh's wings, ripping the membrane apart, sending Jarh into howls of pain. Jarh managed a weak retaliation, a blow that Spike caught easily, biting into the wrist, the bone creaked in his jaws. The voice pleaded with him, telling him he had already won, but vengeance seethed in him, and drowned the little voice.

Jarh desperately ripped his claw from Spike's mouth, leaving hunks of flesh to drip from his teeth. Spike tasted Jarh's blood.

Jarh huddled into a little ball, clutching the ruined claw. So be it, Spike was perfectly happy to flay the skin from his back. His claws scored deep, red furrows until they blended together into large, gaping wounds.

Jarh's head raised in a pitiful wail that beseeched his mercy. Spike gripped his throat violently, squeezing painfully on his windpipe. Spike raised a claw high above his head, this blow would rip the throat from his body, ending the pathetic life, once so mighty, that lay quivering in his grip.

The voice became a shout, _**STOP**_. Spike paused, it was six voices he hadn't heard in an age. His innards were cold, and he felt his Centre. No matter what he had done, no matter what harm Jarh had done, or hoped to do, he could never take that final step, he could never disappoint them so completely.

Spike drew in a deep breath. Something tinted the air around Jarh, he hadn't noticed it before now. He knew that scent from the bloody room, and he knew it before then, at the arena. He lifted Jarh to look into his eyes.

"I know what you did." He carefully placed the rotten flower into Jarh's palm, Red-Tipped Leopard wasn't a common plant. "Run." And Jarh obeyed.

A reasonable dragon might have known all Spike's evidence was a gut feeling, a reasonable dragon might have known that he now had proof of Spike's guilt, etched into his own body. But reason is a whisper.

Fear is a shout.

"Are you ok?" He pulled Tune upright.

"Yeah..." his voice trailed off.

"You sure?"

"Y-yeah." Tune seemed shaken, but Spike had nearly ripped apart a dragon right in front of him. "This...This is for you." He produced an emerald. Not grown, but found, it was an ellipse, cut to perfection. Spike held it in his hands, afraid to damage its beauty.

"Thank you." He clutched the gem to his heart. Spike carefully removed the rock-plaster covering his left eye. The lack of vision was still eerie. He held the perfect gem in his index claw and thumb. He opened his ruined eye, scratching out the damp ash, the cremated remains of once-stunning green, soon to be replaced.

He held the emerald forth. "Are you sure you want me to have it?" Spike felt...unworthy of such an object.

"Yes. I found it the day you had your accident..." Tune sighed. "It belongs to you."

Spike pressed the gem into the hole. It slotted in beautifully. He blinked a few times, the feeling of his eyelid sliding over a cool, smooth-cut gem face was unnerving. It didn't wobble or roll when he rocked his head. A new emerald eye. "Thanks Tune."

Jarh didn't show up for his test the next day, earning him an automatic fail, one that could never be smoothed over. He was found sometime later by a search party Ger had organised. Spike had heard his father had disowned him. Guilt stabbed at him, Spike's revenge had been completed in the Silent Room, this left a bitter smear on his conscience. Jarh wouldn't level charges, only a warrior could level charges at another warrior, and he wouldn't get any help from his influential family, not any more.

He looked on the dozen others that had passed the Test of Pain, all their spines cropped into nubs. They stood rigidly at attention as Ger moved up and down the line. Randomly spouting pieces of advice, chastising someone's sloppy posture.

The large auditorium was overflowing with dragonkind. The press of shimmering, coloured bodies swirled together in Spike's eye, making it difficult to pick out individuals. Some were warriors, others were relatives, all had turned out to see their progeny entered into the Warrior Sect. Frantic cheers ripped the silence apart. Spike winced as he stepped out in front of the King. He lounged on a bed of silks and cushions. He seemed happy that someone passed the test, but overall quite bored with what he considered extraneous tradition.

Spike noticed a dragon next to the King cough a little. Nothing happened. The dragon coughed again, this time more urgently. It was unlikely he had a cold, especially when the King suddenly stood up and called for quiet.

Excitement buzzed in the air. A few non-nobles were becoming warriors, their friends and family waved at them, Spike saw a large dragoness squirm with jubilation. She even felt the need to smile sincerely at him. Spike wasn't sure if he liked it. A few surprised looks and hushed whispers accompanied Spike's presence, but he put it out of his mind, there was always something about him that warranted whispering.

The King's gaze was vacant, his eyes misted over as he ran through a rehearsed speech.

"Congratulations to all who have followed the Path of the Warrior, and emerged on the other side. You have proven yourselves to be worthy of the tasks ahead. As you step into your..." The King trailed off there, thoroughly bored. No one seemed to notice, they just exploded back into cheering.

Spike didn't have anything to pack, he had arrived with nothing, it felt right to leave the same way, apart from the priceless emerald now stuffed into his eye socket, but that didn't really count. The three ambassadors he was leaving with were already lined up outside. One by one they dove from the volcano.

Spike stretched his wings, he could feel the scarred membrane, not painful, but a tug, a tightening, always reminding him of what happened. A breeze sent them rippling, now or never. Spike plunged into the air, the scars pinched. His 'fingers' rattled with the force of the wind, now swirling around him, but they held.

They coasted on the geysers of hot air, common around the area. The dryness stung the great, pink scars, still easily visible circles marked on his wings. They passed easily through great spires of earth and rock. Far past the ash and heat of Dun, they were capped with drifts of still, white snow, piling on any surface flat enough to take it. A griffon plunged into a small crevice at their passing, its eagle head poking out, checking to see if they had gone.

Soon the icy mountain ranges gave away to the dusty foothills and valleys, mottled with forest and lazy, winding streams that fed the vegetation, lands that had never known the touch of dragons. Deer walked in the open without checking the skies. The large gold punished them for their audacity. It let out a pitiful, fearful whine, and then was silent. Flies buzzed around the rotting corpse. The dragon hadn't even fed, it just blooded it, leaving the bloodless husk rotting in the sun.

"Do you want any?" The gold gestured to the lifeless deer, blood drenched his lips, he grinned wickedly. Another dragon was casually ripping long hunks of ragged meat from its side. Disgusting.

"No thanks." Spike managed to squeak out. He'd never eat...that. Crawling insects began to rip their own little pieces out, a sickening frenzy.

The other dragons expanded to their larger sizes. "Come on, let's show these ponies how _real_ dragons look." Spike was comparatively small in 'big mode', a runt amongst giants.

Canterlot swept by underneath, gasps and stared greeted the dragons landing boldly in the middle of Canterlot Square. Some of the ponies fled the great, towering immortals. Long claws tore the dirt and road beneath them, the repairs would take weeks. The deep scarlet playfully snapped at a filly, sending her into squeals and sobs of terror. He snorted hot smoke in her direction, earning another squeal. He laughed cruelly, thoroughly amused by the little creature.

Celestia strode towards them, she wasn't happy.

"What is the meaning of this?" She was every bit the ruler Spike remembered. Authority was present in every word she spoke, in every movement she made. Spike knew, if she said sit, he would.

"My dear lady Celestia," The condescending civility of the blue was frightening, did he even know to whom he spoke? "We are wearied from travel and your customs simply slipped our mind. We apologise most deeply." His acrimonious bow did nothing to assuage Celestia's anger.

Celestia's face betrayed her anger, it was a long time since she had any cause to be truly enraged. The blue seemed to revel in the emotion of her reactions, a high-class bully. Spike subconsciously distanced himself from the blue, he wasn't sure exactly how powerful Celestia was, but the sun was hot enough to vaporize a dragon, and he didn't want to take chances.

Celestia's stared at his lachrymose form, she could recognize him anywhere. "Spike. What happened?"

"Accident." He didn't want to discuss it any more than that. She gave him that sympathy.

Celestia turned back to the blue, Spike never caught his name. "Why are you landing in the middle of **my** capital?"

"My lady, you of all know what's coming, eventually you must choose a side."

"I don't have to do anything." Celestia was surprisingly venomous.

"Of course, my lady." The dragons turned around, they had reminded Equestria of the foolishness of making an enemy out of the dragons. They spread great wings while the red took another snap at a curious pony, sending him rushing back into his basement.

Celestia was visibly relieved by their departure. "Are you ready to go home Spike?"

Spike nodded. "Very."


End file.
